An Earlier Heaven
by Thesaurusgirl
Summary: When he asked the question, Colby had no idea what he was letting himself in for.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Finally back in the saddle. This would have been done sooner, but my other laptop went to computer heaven (moment of silence). Ok, now let's get this part over with quickly. Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. Original characters are mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. Ahem. Sorry. Be warned, fictional locations ahead periodically. Don't freak out when you see one. Thanks. This story is the follow up to A is for Anesthesia. **

_**The title comes from a quote by George Bernard Shaw, "A happy family is but an earlier heaven"**_

* * *

Chapter 1

"_His name was Lancer, Colby. Mason Lancer."_

Colby was caught in a painful stasis, struggling to absorb the words. Physically, literally in the act of putting his arms around Kerri to comfort her in her obvious distress, the revelation of her biological paternity felt like a verbal RPG. He didn't know what to say, what to do next. He shook his head as if to clear it.

"I didn't hear that right" Colby told himself. It sounded like the woman he loved had just admitted that Mason Lancer, who's face and voice Granger was still sometimes visited by in his nightmares, was her natural father. That, that…that couldn't … she, she couldn't have said that. He shook his head again. Inhaling deeply, he drew breath into his suddenly oxygen starved lungs.

"Kerri, what are you… what do you… Lancer was your father?" Colby's raspy whisper was suspended halfway between anger and stunned unbelief. Standing next to a wall, he put out a hand to steady himself. His questing green gaze sought out the beautiful eyes that even now seemed like a refuge.

Kerri turned her face from the window, leaving behind the large, splattering drops of rain that had just begun to soak the glass. She said nothing. There was no way to fix this. She could never take back the damning announcement, and she could not make it easier for him. Inundated with her own misery, she was helpless.

The abject anguish Colby saw when Kerri looked back at him shocked him out of himself. The stasis broken, he obeyed his earlier impulse reaching out to enclose her in his arms.

"Kerri, baby…" Unwelcome, with timing that sucked in the worst way possible, Colby snorted bitterly, his phone sounded with the distinctive ringtone indicating the call was from one of his teammates. Simultaneously, her landline rang, startling them both with its loud insistence.

Colby groaned inaudibly. Why now? What did Don or any of the others have to tell him, and why did they have to be doing it now?! He came within a hair's breath of hurling the phone across the room if only for the cathartic result of seeing it shatter into a million pieces. Instead, he reluctantly released Kerri and stepped back, creating an inch or two of space between them. He stroked her lower lip with a finger, a rueful grimace accompanying his motion to silence the troublesome device.

Unsteadily, Kerri walked over to pick up her own phone. He…he..hello?" her voice vibrated with the intensity of the past few moments.

"Kerri?" it was Robin Brooks. "Kerri, look, I, I'm not really sure how to say this, so…, Kerri, Jack Lucern is dead. He was found in his cell about forty minutes ago. We're gonna be trying to sort out what happened for a while but, you need to come in the office, right now, okay?"

"What, what are you…? What, what do you mean Jack is dead? How the…how, I don't underst" Kerri's confused questioning was cut short by her colleague.

"Like I said, nobody has any answers right at the moment." Robin put in, sounding tense. "Please, just get in to the office ASAP, alright?"

"I, I…um, I'm on my. I'll, uh, I should be there in twenty minutes" Kerri replied, cradling the receiver. Her openmouthed state of shock she saw mirrored in Colby's dumbfounded glare. He'd received the same news from David Sinclair.

"I, uh, I gotta, I gotta, I gotta go. Kerri, I don't want to leave now. We, you and I we need to talk about this but…uuuugghh!" he grabbed his forehead in consternation, wishing illogically that they could ignore the calls. "Not possible Granger" he berated himself.

"Let…let's just go, and, and we can finish ta...tal…we can finish our…talk later, huh?" She said, giving him a trembling, nervous half smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Come on, we better get going." He head for the door.

Grabbing her discarded jacket from its customary hook, Kerri checked to make sure her keys were still in the right pocket. Her hand wound up beneath his as Colby, obeying manners hard wired into him years ago by his small town upbringing, went for the door's handle at the same instant. He pulled back, not wanting to crush her fingers.

In her frazzled condition, Kerri misinterpreted his reaction. Why did he pull away from her? Did he not even want to touch her anymore? What was she supposed to do? Her skull seemed about to spin off her shoulders with swirling questions. And to make matters worse, there was no time for answers. Jack dead? How? Who? Combating the urge to run for her bed and crawl under it, she jerked the door open, waited for Colby to step out and locked it.

"Are you ok to drive?" he asked her softly.

"I'm fine. I'll, we'll talk later?" Please say yes, she begged in her mind.

"Yes, we absolutely will" Colby tried to pack as much reassurance as he could into the brief statement. He gave her one last lingering look, then headed for his vehicle and she to hers.

* * *

Colby was still way off center as he pulled into the nearest parking spot he could find to the MDC. The Metropolitan Detention Center was home to some of Los Angeles's more troublesome and notorious federal felons. Now, it housed at least one less, according to David, Colby thought. How anyone had managed to get to Lucern as closely monitored as he'd been still had to be determined. Granger knew one thing for certain, a fair number of heads were going to be missing their bodies because of it.

He took the steps two at a time, presenting his I.D. and signing the log book after passing thru the metal detector. Before he could get any further he saw Don, David, Nikki and Liz coming to meet him.

Don held up a hand, palm out signifying "stop."

"Hold it, Colb. You can't go any further." Don's normally hard to read face was as black as a thundercloud. "As a matter of fact, David should've just told you to meet us at the office." Don bit off the words angrily. He was as pissed as Colby'd ever seen him.

"Don, what are you…?" Colby began.

"Office, Colby!"

Don's brusque order, made without breaking stride, straightened Granger up in surprise. Blinking with confusion, he walked quickly back to his truck, (finally, he'd won his battle with the insurance company and had a new one). His mind blowing night just kept getting more and more bizarre. He could feel the beginnings of what promised to be a splitting headache as he headed back to the FBI building.

"Wait up! Hold it please!" Colby flashed his ID at security, rushing towards the elevator. He got there just in time for it to close in his face. Astonished, he saw the car held Nikki, Liz, and a still clearly furious Don Eppes. What was going on!? Was Don angry at him? What had _he _done?! Slashing at the call button with the flat of his hand, he waited impatiently for the next car.

"Colby, wait!" He turned to see David hustling in behind him. Able to hold his peace for an entire ten seconds, an exasperated, bewildered Colby turned to his partner, breath expelled in an explosive rush.

"David, talk to me! What happened at the MDC? Why wouldn't Don want me going up there? What happened with Lucern?" Granger fired off the series of questions, atypically not giving Sinclair a chance to answer.

David did his best to placate the other man. "Look, Colby, take it easy alright? I know you're in the dark, but don't get all wound up, ok? This is all gonna get figured out. We're gonna figure it all out, huh?" David bolted for the bull-pen as the elevator doors slid open with the customary "ding"

"What's gonna get figured out, David!? What are you talking about!? All what!? Colby sputtered, following Sinclair to where the team's desks were situated.

Liz Warner and Nikki Bentancourt were already present, and Colby spared a moment to notice the oddly probing looks he received from each, especially Nikki.

"Where's Don?" David asked, looking around for their absent team leader.

"A.D.'s office" Liz answered shortly. The look she gave Sinclair took away the need to add "and yes, he still got steam coming out of his ears about what happened at the detention center."

David sighed heavily.

"Will somebody please answer my question!?" Colby half shouted, blocking the entrance/exit to the unit's work area with a raised leg as Nikki rose and started for the break room, empty coffee cup in hand.

"Granger, do you mind?" Bentancourt asked with her customary in-your-face attitude. 'Your leg's coming between me and my coffee, and right now I really need it!"

"Not as much as I need to find out exactly why I'm all of a sudden runnin' to catch up. So how 'bout you have your coffee after we all get on the same page!

"Look, Colby…" Liz started.

Nearing the limit of a rope that was getting shorter by the minute, Colby cut her off, his temper making him uncharacteristically testy. "No, not looking. I would like for one of you to explain, please!" he snapped, jaw clenching shut.

"The only thing we really know for sure at this point is that Jackson Lucern was murdered" Don's voice said from behind him. They all turned at the sound, everyone moving back to let him in.

"The suspect list is short but it's getting longer." Don usually level dark eyes were troubled as he focused on Colby Granger. " And you might as well find out from me. You're on it. So is Kerri Walton."

* * *

Normally, Colby had nothing but love for weekends. Especially the rare ones that actually turned into time off. Even when he was working Saturday and Sunday weren't too bad. Except for stakeouts, the workload and the hours were lighter.

This one, however, had turned itself inside out in the amazingly fast, taking him along for the ride. The softball game Saturday ended up being the only good part. After that, it was downhill all the way, at lightspeed.

First Kerri's bombshell, then Jack Lucern gets taken out, and just cause the universe seemed to have a need for completion, Colby discovered thru Don that he, Colby, and Kerri too, were high on the hit parade as suspects. The indisputable fact that neither one of them had gone anywhere near the MDC or Jack Lucern since his incarceration there didn't seem to matter much to the agents assigned to the case.

It had taken Agents Ken Lennox and Dale Gorman exactly twenty-four hours from the time of Don informing Granger that he was a suspect in the murder for them to subject Colby to a bruising late Sunday afternoon interview. Lennox especially, oozing hostility and contempt, seemed to be itching to connect Colby to the murder. Evidently, that no one could place Granger or Kerri in the MDC and the total lack of any physical evidence linking either of them to Jackson Lucern's death was only a minor speed bump for Agent Lennox. This was his first major case since being assigned to the Bureau's Office of Professional Responsibility (OPR), and he relished the opportunity. His partner in the investigation, Agent Gorman was slightly less unpleasant to deal with. Only the presence of the attorney Colby was legally entitled to and Don Eppes who insisted on being allowed to sit in, kept either one of Granger's interrogators in check.

For his part, Don was still bristling at having he and his team barred from having anything to do with the investigation by the ADIC. Don had left the Metropolitan Detention Center Saturday, incensed at being unceremoniously yanked off the case by the arrival of Lennox and Gorman. He'd driven back to the office and stormed up to the ADIC's office with the intention of getting an explanation and demanding his team be allowed access to the investigation. He never made it to the man's office. Intercepted by the ADIC himself Al Kensington, Don's objections and outrage were quickly steamrolled by his superior.

"For the record, Eppes, no, I don't believe Agent Granger had anything to do with Jackson Lucern's death. I also don't believe that any of your team would have any part of covering it up if he had. The problem is, that although Jack Lucern was a criminal scumbag, in the end, he was a wealthy, high profile criminal scumbag. It doesn't help any that Agent Colby Granger has managed to garner a fair amount of notoriety all on his own." ADIC Kensington quelled Don's nascent interruption. "I'm not done, Agent. It's as simple as this. The Bureau has to be seen as being one-hundred percent transparent on this one. We give anyone, and I mean anyone, the Lucern family, the media, anyone so much as a kernel to nibble on here and it will get out of hand very, very quickly. So your team is out. All the way out, is that clear? This will not be a repeat of when you people pulled Granger off that Chinese freighter. None of you should have been allowed anywhere near that situation. This time, not one of you so much as glances in the direction of this investigation until it's over. You've got other work to keep you all busy. I suggest you concentrate on that. Good night, Agent Eppes." With that, Kensington went into his office, locking the door behind him and dismissing the still fuming Don to break the news to Granger and the rest. Knowing it was disobeying orders, and not caring at all, Don still demanded to be present during Colby's "interview" with Lennox and Gorman. They weren't happy about it, but decided to let it go. Three hours of nasty, innuendo laced barbs later, and Colby's two questioners were more aggravated than their subject. They found absolutely nothing to hang Colby with, much to their disappointment. Finally, Colby's attorney, Tom Kent, a former Green Beret, Colby later discovered, stuck a fork in the session.

"Fellas, I think we can all see you've nothing here but enough hot air to compete in the America's cup. That being the case, I'm advising my client he can go. Unless you have something else? No, then I guess we're done, aren't we?" Kent finished, giving Lennox and Gorman a look that invited them to contradict him.

When neither did, Colby rose and headed out. "Granger." It was Gorman.

Colby turned. "Is the part where you warn me not to leave L.A.?" he asked tiredly. He was ready for this lousy weekend to be finished.

"As of yet, we haven't a shred of evidence, circumstantial or otherwise connecting you to anything. And since you haven't been 'officially' relived of duty, _yet,_" Agent Gorman answered, 'your movements aren't restricted. "But, Agent Granger" the man warned coldly, "don't make us look for you."

Colby was nearly to the elevator before Don caught up with him. "Just hang in there, Colby. They'll clear you soon enough. Kerri too. Then you can both just put this behind you."

"I hope you're right, Don. They act more eager to pin something on me than clear me, but I really hope you're right. Thanks for being in there. I know you could probably get reamed for it, so thanks."

Both men entered the elevator as the door opened.

"You must be wiped out. Go home, grab a beer and get some rest" Don advised.

"I like to" Colby answered, but I need to talk to Kerri."

"Colby, I don't know if that's a good idea under the circumstances" Don said slowly.

Colby didn't reply. Maybe not, but he didn't care how it looked or who found out. He and Kerri needed to talk. They had too much unfinished business that needed tending.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. Original characters, blah, blah, blah.**

Chapter 2

Colby hoped Monday would be an improvement over the weekend. At first he thought he was going to get his wish. A screaming hot shower eased the tightness in his back and banished most of the sluggishness left over from his restless night. Between his irritation with Lennox and Gorman and his worry over Kerri, sleep had been hard to come by.

He'd gone back to her place after leaving the MDC Saturday and although Don advised against it, and Colby privately agreed that it might not be the best idea he ever had, he still dropped by Kerri's apartment after his love fest with Gorman and Lennox was finished the next day. Not only did they have an important conversation that needed finishing, but he was worried about her. If the OPR agents were giving him a hard time, was Kerri going thru the same thing, or worse?

She wasn't home either time. The half dozen phone calls he'd made in the interim also went unanswered. It left Colby with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like Kerri was avoiding him. But that didn't make any sense. He knew she wanted to get things resolved as much as he. Ducking him didn't jibe with that.

He fretted and woolgathered thru his morning run, shower, breakfast, two cups of strong coffee, and all way down the stairs to his truck. Once on the road though, he tried to concentrate. There were enough brainless, cell phone using, book reading, breakfast eating, there's only two inches of room but I can make it and besides, nobody else matters but me and I'm late for my meeting so get out of my way drivers on L.A.'s roads already. He decided not to add himself to the list of "drive like I'm out here by myself" road warriors. That turned to be a good thing for him.

He was nearly to work, when the light of ahead of him turned green just as he approached it. Already breaking, Colby didn't have time to shift his foot back to the gas pedal when his peripheral vision registered a large, fast moving object approaching from his right side. Instinctively jamming down on the break, he spun the wheel left, turning his truck a split second before he would have been flattened by the tour bus plowing thru a red light at nearly fifty miles an hour. The bus missed him by so little that he could feel the breeze it created as the lumbering monster zoomed past. He had barely five seconds to appreciate the fact that he hadn't been transformed into FBI asphalt paste when he heard a huge crash immediately behind him. Putting his own ride in park and killing the engine, he got out to go investigate.

Sitting in the middle of the intersection, looking dazed and terrified behind the wheel of her now wrecked Toyota Camry was a middle aged woman Granger recognized as Bureau lab tech. Lucy, something. Her last name escaped him right now. It didn't matter. He needed to make sure she was ok and check on the driver of the car that had rear ended hers. On the phone to report the accident, he got to Lucy's driver's side door about the same time the 911 operator picked up.

"Hey" Granger said, reaching in to gently touch the frightened, shaking Lucy on the shoulder. "You okay, huh? You alright?"

"_911. What is your emergency?" _a brisk, business like voice said in his ear simultaneously.

About to answer the question, Colby was interrupted when the man who had slammed into Lucy Haines, her last name was Haines, Granger's brain picked this odd instant to supply the information, came roaring up, red-faced and belligerent.

No one who knew Rodney Hampton would use the words "considerate" "generous" or "maturely selfless" to describe him. His mother and father thought he could do no wrong. Every other human being he'd ever come into contact with in his lifetime ended up wanting to throttle Rodney. Five minutes exposure to his more sterling qualities quickly gave up the reason why.

Put simply, Rodney was a boil. A cold sore. A toothache, a nosebleed. A poster boy for jerkdom. A good portion of the time, he stood alone at the center the universe, whining for attention. Never one to lower himself by participating in the demeaning activity of actually working for a living, Rodney preferred to sponge, at age thirty-nine, off the parents who could not find it within themselves to tell him no about anything. He ate the groceries they provided for him, slept in the same room he'd had since childhood and drove their cars. (It was so irritating that he had to nag them to keep the gas tanks full!).

Fresh from wheedling a hundred bucks out of his mother so that he could spend the day cruising the city, Rodney was on his way to grab a bite to eat when the stupid cow in the five year old Camry in front of him stopped dead in her tracks. With no time to react, (he'd never admit that he'd been following to closely and not paying attention anyway), Rodney's car, actually his father's vintage cherry red Caddy convertible, mashed the Camry's fender and didn't stop until he was three quarters of the way to the other car's back seat. Rodney, taking stock of the damage, couldn't believe his eyes! No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! His beautiful Caddy! His baby! The babemobile! Ruined because of some incompetent broad's driving! No, no, no! Emerging unscathed physically, Rodney climbed out of the Cadillac, took another look at the twisted metal and completely lost his mind. He stomped up to the Camry, shoving aside some jerk in the process of reaching in to inquire about the lady behind the wheel.

"What is your problem" Rodney screamed into the woman's face. "Look what you did to my car! Look! Look what you did! How stupid are you?!" he continued, bellowing at the confused woman, spittle flying off his lips.

Colby, trying to answer the 911 operator and verify that Lucy wasn't seriously injured at the same time, suddenly had the bellicose Rodney to juggle too. He got between the other man and Lucy.

"Hey, back up! She might be hurt! Besides, she stopped 'cause she was trying to avoid hitting me! And I stopped because…"

Granger's hurried explanation got blown off in mid-sentence. Rodney, already exercised about the condition of the car he used so successfully to pick up women, and imaging the reaction of his father when he saw the vehicle's state, heard only "she stopped 'cause she was trying to avoid hitting me!" What!! What happened to his beautiful cherry chariot was because of this guy?! This goon who had him by the collar and the dumb broad were both at fault?! Rodney, who had only the flimsiest acquaintance with prudent action to begin with, lost all touch with anything remotely resembling common sense. He did something which qualified him for at least honorable mention in the moron hall of fame. He took an awkward, unpracticed, but enthusiastic, swing at Colby Granger.

Colby could certainly take a punch, and had many times before, by people much better at it that this idiot. He ducked back, letting the potential blow pass over him. Aware that the tensions of the moment might have a grip on his attacker, he took a crack at defusing the situation.

"Come on, settle down, okay? It was an accident. The most important thing is you don't seem to be hurt. Now I need to check on her, alright?!"

Rodney, still inhabiting the land of stupidity, aimed another wild haymaker in Granger's direction.

Colby was trying not to go off on this guy, but the second swing was the final straw. First his sleepless night, powered by his own problems and his worry over Kerri, then nearly getting dead courtesy of the tourism industry, and now this nimrod! He expertly intercepted the second punch well before it could reach him, twisted the swinger's arm up and back and pivoted, plastering the other man onto the hood of Lucy Haines wounded automobile. Reaching for his cuffs with the other hand, he soon had Rodney hooked up.

'Mister, you picked the wrong day to do that!" he grunted sourly. Retrieving his discarded phone, he closed it when he saw LAPD's accident investigations and an LA County paramedic unit pulling up.

As quickly as he possibly could, he identified himself to the police, gave them the scoop on the situation and saw Lucy Haines into the ambulance and Rodney Hampton into the custody of the cops. He tried to wrap the whole mess up with a minimum of bother, but he was still late to work by almost an hour. Since he'd managed to get Don on the phone, no explanation was needed when he finally arrived. It helped some, not a lot, but some.

"Hey" David Sinclair greeted him. "You ever hear of a nice quiet weekend?" his partner chided him jokingly. Sinclair could tell by Colby's body language the other was feeling tense and rushed and tried to do what he could to help. Don had filled the team in on Colby's interrogation by Lennox and Gorman. They already knew that Granger and Kerri were on the suspect list for Jackson Lucern's murder. The reaction from David, Liz and Nikki, consisted of varying degrees of indignation. David and Liz were livid, Nikki showed anger too, but somewhat less so. She didn't doubt Colby was innocent of any wrongdoing, but…

Colby, settling in to his work day, after another unsuccessful attempt to reach Kerri by phone, tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The team was preparing for court tomorrow. A case they'd made an arrest on several months ago was finally coming to trial. A ton of prep still remained. They still needed to meet with the federal prosecutors to go over their testimony. Maybe he would get to see Kerri then.

After working away for a while, and a two hour session with the lawyers (they'd come to the FBI offices, eliminating Colby's hoped for opportunity to talk with Kerri), he urgently required another cup of coffee. He stood, bent over to stretch the kinks out, and headed for the break room. He could see David and Nikki already there.

"…Look" Nikki Bentancourt said, back to the opening door, "we all gotta admit, Granger and his girlfriend do look good for Lucern's murder. I mean, think about it. They both have great motive."

David, also with his back to his teammate and the door, gave his coffee another shot of cream before turning around. "Nikki, there is no way Colby or Kerri had _anything_ at all to do with this, and I can't believe you'd even think otherwise for a second!" Sinclair finished, turning around.

"All I'm saying is…" Nikki stopped, noticing the chagrined look on Sinclair's face. She turned to see Colby, arms crossed, leaning against the frame, regarding her coolly from the doorway. None of the three teammates spoke for a moment.

"If there's something you want to ask me Nikki, why don't you just come on out and do that thing?"

The usually self assured Nikki hesitated. Great. Now she needed to make things right with Granger _and_ get her foot out of her mouth. Tricky." Lousy timing, Nikki," she thought. She and Colby were finally back on an even keel after a rough patch. Questioning his ethics on a recent case resulted in a sort of guarded working environment between the two of them. Lately, things seemed to be getting better, until now.

"Come on Colby," Bentancourt began, "I'm not saying that _I_ think you or Kerri is re-" She never got the chance to finish explaining herself.

"Let me clear it up for you" Granger cut in quietly, his raspy voice low and inflectionless, a sign, David knew, of how offended Colby was. "I'm not sorry Lucern is dead, but I didn't do it and neither did Kerri. Any of that too hard for you to get your head around?"

"Granger, all I meant was that if I was Gorman and Lennox and I was coming into this from the outside, looking for who had the best motive and all that…that's all I meant. I don't think you or Kerri killed the man. I don't" Nikki said.

"Do me a favor?" Colby asked, emerald eyes full of challenge. "When you talk to OPR, try to sound a little more convincing." He gave her a final, dry, sarcastic glance before turning on his heel and heading back to his desk, without coffee. Maybe his caffeine hit could wait after all.

Nikki watched him leave and then tried once more to explain to David Sinclair. "I really don't believe he or Kerri Walton murdered Lucern! That's the truth!"

"What a mess" Sinclair was thinking. "I know. I get it. Colby will too. Just give him some room and a little time. He's under some pressure right now. Why don't we get back to work, huh?"

They did, with Nikki giving Colby something of a wide berth. The team got thru an awkward morning.

* * *

Kerri swiftly navigated the space between Roger Kendall's office door and the elevators of the seventh floor. She was grateful for her briefcase. It gave her something to hold on to and kept her hands from noticeably shaking. Her stomach gave an ill-timed heave. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she abandoned her choice of the elevator and bolted for the ladies room.

Taking stock of her appearance in the mirror afterwards, she had to admit, she'd looked better. Shakily, she rinsed her mouth out and did what she could to repair the damage.

"Hey, Kerri, you ok?" Kathy Craig asked.

Kerri gave the paralegal a weak smile. "Yeah, uh, yes, Kath, I, I'm fine" she replied, trying to calm the tremors in her voice. Kathy didn't look convinced.

"Look, is there anything I can do to help?" Kathy had a "heart of gold" reputation around the office. Kerri knew the offer was sincere. The other woman probably knew about Kerri's current predicament. How could she not? Offices were like self-contained small towns. Gossip spread like an out of control brushfire.

"I'm okay, Kath, really. Thanks."

As gracefully as she could, Kerri made her escape, opting for the privacy of the stairs. She didn't really feel like enduring the curious stares of her coworkers in the long elevator ride to the lobby. She wasn't certain how she might react to the first person to ask her if she still had a job, although she was fairly certain slugging the questioner would be the wrong way to handle it. Getting out of the building and into her car without embarrassing herself further would have to do for now. She reached the lobby without incident and virtually ran for her silver Venza, gratefully closing and locking the door behind her. Resting her head on the seat, she felt lightheaded, like a fighter that had taken one punch too many. Her freshly concluded meeting with her boss was a fitting conclusion to the events of her fractured weekend.

Telling Colby about her connection to Mason Lancer and seeing his horrified reaction was just the beginning. She'd gotten to the office Saturday night and been greeted by investigators working for the prosecutor's office. Apparently, already considered a "person of interest", an ugly two hours of questioning failed to uncover anything linking Kerri to the slaying.

"We know neither you or your boyfriend did a 'hands on', Walton, but you both must have connections down at the MDC. Know plenty of people on both sides of the cell door who could help you set something up." Joann Hardesty, the female half of the investigative team looked Kerri up and down contemptuously. "We might not know who it is yet, but we'll find 'em. When we do, we'll be speaking with you again."

Since they had no grounds to detain her, Kerri was allowed to leave. With the past two hours ringing in her head, she drove home. Hardesty's parting shot wouldn't leave her alone. Jack's murder had nothing to do with her, or Colby. But from her own work as an ADA, Kerri knew how hard it was to prove a negative. The investigation would not turn up any evidence tying her or Colby to the death, because there was nothing to find. That wouldn't keep Hardesty or her partner from making her and Colby's lives miserable.

Kerri couldn't block out something else Bill Hume, the other investigator had thrown at her. Lucern's computer files, paper records and bank accounts were already under the microscope. His getting murdered intensified that. "If there's more motive somewhere in all of that for you or Granger to want Jackson Lucern dead, it's gonna come out."

She didn't know how Jack discovered Lancer being her natural father. With the Lucern coffers to draw upon, not to mention his own personal fortune, hiring the best private investigators seemed the most likely answer. Now that information lay buried in the flotsam of the late Jackson Lucern's personal life, waiting to be discovered by people who wouldn't hesitate to use it against her, or Colby.

Colby. She loved him so much, and yet, she just kept hurting him. She'd been attracted to him from the first. Launching into him in the parking garage that day helped keep her from having to admit the attraction to herself. Finding out who he was had really rattled her. Colby Granger. Kerri remembered his name from when news of Mason Lancer's spy ring had been splashed all over every available communications medium. Her fear of being outed as Lancer's daughter colored everything. Later, in the process of digging out evidence on another case, she'd come across a box in the evidence room at the federal retention center marked "Lancer Espionage Investigation." Unable to resist, Kerri opened the box, finding among other things, some sort of video important to the case. Without knowing why, she felt an irresistible compulsion to see what was on it. The sickening contents still haunted her. Lancer's clinical, brutal chemical torture of Colby, Colby's stoic courage, Lancer's death at the hands of Dwayne Carter. Goading Colby into an argument later that week at Charlie's Eppes dinner party was her only defense against the revulsion of that video. She never meant to have a relationship with him, for things to get this far. But they had. And now this. Being with her was hurting him. When Hardesty and Hume found out about Lancer, it would only get worse. She could only cause Colby more pain. He'd had enough of that. From Lancer and everything and everyone connected to him. That included her, didn't it? Whether she wanted to face it or not. At home when Colby came back to her apartment on Saturday, Kerri stared at the door, wanting to throw it open, grab onto him, and never let go. In place of that, she waited, nearly afraid to breathe, until he left, assuming she wasn't there. She ached to answer each one of his calls, but did not. His hurt and shock at her revelation, which he did not quite succeed in covering fast enough, kept her from seeing him the next day too. No matter what he said, his unconscious actions spoke louder. He might deny it, but there was no way that he could look at her now and not see Mason Lancer. Eventually, he would not be able to hide it.

"I love you, Colby" Kerri spoke aloud to the absent object of her feelings. "I will _not_ let being with me cause you anymore pain. I won't." Kerri lay awake that night, making decisions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters…You know the rest.**

An Earlier Heaven

Chapter 3

Don Epppes picked up on the taut vibe coming from his team immediately upon his return to the bull pen. Of the four, Liz was the most relaxed. David appeared uncomfortable and Nikki appeared…slightly ashamed? Colby, understandably, seemed tightly wound. Still keyed up from his own confrontation with the Assistant Director this morning, he let it go for now. His agents were adults. Whatever was going on, Don decided to let them work it out between themselves. He would not interfere unless things got to Gary Walker's "head knocking stage." Besides, the situation was about to get worse before it got better, particularly for Colby. Don swore to himself. Granger was a good agent. An integral part of the team. And he was NOT a murderer. He didn't deserve to be tarred as one, even temporarily. Don had spent the past hour arguing that point, to no avail. Might as well get on with it. "It's not like it's going to get any easier" he prodded himself.

"Colby" he got the junior agent's attention. "Need to see you for a minute" Don said, indicating with his head for Colby to follow him to the empty briefing room.

"Close the door" he said, motioning for Granger to find a seat.

"I think I'd rather keep standing Don." Colby answered, leaning, arms and legs crossed against the one textured wall in the room. Don had trouble meeting Colby's gaze. Whatever his boss had to say to him wasn't good.

"Colby" Don began, then paused, not wanting to say what had to be said.

"Don, why don't you tell me, ok? Am I fired, suspended, what?" Granger asked, trying to keep a lid on his anxiety.

"None of the above" Don said, taking a deep breath. "What you are is on unpaid leave, at least until the investigation into Lucern's death is completed."

"Leave?" Colby questioned, confused. "Leave? Don, not only are we in the middle of a case, but we're all supposed to be in court tomorrow. Andrew Reisner's trial remember? I can't take a leave now!"

"I'm aware of what the unit is in the middle of Agent Granger!" Don snapped, then pulled back. He took another laborious breath. "Colby, I've been in the AD's office for the last hour. This was the best I could do. Gorman and Lennox and their boss were all there too, filling the Assistant Director's head with all kinds of crap. They have him half convinced that they'll find some proof you're involved in Lucern's murder and you should be axed to spare the Bureau any more 'embarrassment'. I managed to talk him down to an unofficial suspension in the form of some leave time. That's as good as it gets, but at least this way, nothing goes into your personnel jacket. And, uh, Colb, um, there is one more thing. I really hate to have to ask this, but, uh…I'm supposed to confiscate your passport." The words left a bad taste in his mouth. "I'm sorry." Eppes concluded, trying to hide his anger at being helpless to do more. Part of his job was protecting his team, his FBI family, and he felt as if he'd let Colby down.

"They're going to clear you." Don was adamant. "They won't have a choice. Sooner or later they're going find evidence that leads them to whoever _did_ do this. Once they do, you and Kerri are both off the hook. I know this sucks. About the only thing I can tell you right now is to keep your cool. Go surfing, or golfing or fishing. Don't let this eat you up too much."

"Jackson Lucern" Colby considered, disgusted. The gift that keeps on giving." His irritation at Lucern and the situation almost made him miss Don's tone, almost. "Alright, Granger. Get over yourself. This doesn't affect just you," he thought, giving himself a silent reprimand. He refused to let Don blamed himself for any of this.

"Thanks, Don. Tell you the truth, I'm glad I had you in there pleading my case. Probably would be handing in my badge and gun permanently if it wasn't for you." Colby knew how fiercely Don looked out for his agent's welfare. He didn't want his boss (and friend) to feel at fault.

"That I do have some say so about" Don responded. "You are officially on leave. You get to hold on to both your badge and gun. Lennox and Gorman can go piss up a rope if they don't like it. You're still very much an active duty FBI agent."

Colby nodded, grateful for the concession Don Eppes had fought so hard to retain for him. He pulled away from the wall. "Hey, maybe I will go play a few rounds of golf. I've been spending so much time on my board lately, I think my clubs are considering suing me for alienation of affection. Could you let the rest know what's going on for me? I'd feel kinda weird explaining it to 'em." Especially Bentancourt, who already has enough doubts as it is, Granger thought, dreading the walk past his visibly curious teammates.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, I'll tell 'em. Try to ride this out Colby. It _will _get better. I promise." Don sounded as if he were trying to convince himself as well as Granger.

Giving his boss a brief grin, Colby nodded again and stepped out. He stopped at his desk only long enough to grab his jacket and gun and took off for the elevator. David's "what's happening Colby?' end up being half yelled at his partner's retreating back, then Colby was gone.

David swung around, virtually pouncing on Don the second Colby was out of sight. Don held up both hands. "Hold on for a minute, David. Here's the deal." Then he told them. Predictably, Liz and David were angered by the news, but Nikki had a more curious response. She was more pensive than angry, almost as if she were making up her mind about something.

Don needed to get everyone focused on work again. "I'll tell you what I told Colby. He _is _going to be cleared. We're all gonna have to be patient and let this thing work itself out. No going off and trying to help. That clear?" He gave them all a penetrating stare. "You all know what the AD said, and the last thing Colby needs right now is for any of us to complicate things any more than they already are. Got that? Let's get back to work. He found his own chair and opened the file on their current case, hoping he could follow his own advice.

* * *

At the time Don's team had their meeting with the federal DA's and before Don informed Colby of his involuntary leave, Kerri Walton was having a far more volatile conversation with her politically motivated, scandal sensitive boss. In Sacramento for a fundraiser the night of Jack Lucern's death, Kendall raced back to L.A. with all damage control thrusters firing.

Roger Kendall intended to one day become the governor of the state of California. His brazen fawning over Jackson Lucern, and more importantly, Lucern's checkbook, was public proof that there were very few things he would not do to satisfy that ambition. Prying Jack from his ritzy private law firm and maneuvering him into the DA's office, was, for Kendall, the ultimate revenue generating coup. Keeping the ultra wealthy lawyer there had proven to be an even bigger exploit. Jackson, had, at best, half-heartedly embraced a legal career, intending to use it only as a platform to foster his own future political gains. Excelling at it never occurred to him. Kendall realized this early on, and compensated by assigning the easiest to try (and hopefully win), caseload he could to Jack, thereby, Roger assumed, protecting his own carefully constructed vision of what was to come.

Then Lucern had taken one look at the woman now seated in his office, Kerri Walton, and gone totally off the rails. Helpless to prevent it even if he'd known, Kendall watched, aghast, as the depth of Jack and Alison Lucern's corruption and collaboration with enemies of the USA was gleefully and enthusiastically exposed by the press. With nothing to loose, Lucern had taken to criminal means to get what he wanted. Drugging, kidnapping, attempted murder! All that lovely Lucern cash turned off overnight, forcing Roger into a humiliating scramble to make up the shortfall! And all because Jack Lucern had some uncontrollable urge to stick it (literally) to the Walton woman. Kendall forced his mind back to the present. His chill blue eyes took in Kerri.

"I understand you were interviewed by the investigators assigned to the case?" he asked her brusquely.

"Yes" Kerri answered. "Hardesty and Hume. They spent two hours questioning me Sunday."

"And?" Kendall spat out the word.

"And nothing" Kerri spat back, just as brief.

"Two hours and they came up with nothing, Kerri?" Kendall's voice dripped with disdain at the use of her name.

"They came up with nothing, Roger" Kerri said, deliberately using her boss's first name right back, "because there's nothing to come up with. I didn't kill Jack, Colby didn't kill Jack, and we have no idea who did." Kerri, who knew she wasn't guilty of anything, had no intention of behaving as if she were.

"Still" Kendall continued, "you must admit that this doesn't look good for either one of you. I mean after all, the two of you make prime suspects for this murder. Especially given your…history with the victim." Kendall completed, summoning his rather rusty trial skills.

"The victims here were Agent Colby Granger and myself, Roger. Why is it necessary for me to remind you of that?" Kerri's trial skills, fresh and sharp, were more than a match for her boss's.

'You claim to have no part in Lucern's death, but you're not exactly all broken up that he's dead, are you?" he fired back.

" I'm not _claiming _anything. I'm just giving you the truth. Jack was a slug. Dress him up in a three thousand dollar suit and stick a Rolex on his wrist and he's still a slug. After what he put me and Colby thru, I'm not about to sit here in this chair and pretend I'm sorry somebody did the world a favor by taking Jack out of it, but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with it! And neither did Colby." Kerri waited, calm exterior belying her inner turmoil. It was happening. Slowly but surely the life she'd built for herself here in L.A. was starting to unravel, and there didn't appear to be anything she could do to prevent it. She felt her stomach turn over.

"There must be some reason other than what happened between you and Lucern for you and your boyfriend to shoot right to the top of the suspect list? You maintain there's nothing for Hardesty and Hume to find. But I know those two, very well. Two of the best investigators this office has available. They're like twin pit bulls. And they've locked on to you. I have to think there's a reason for that, and that they'll find it. When they do, I'd rather not be surprised. If there's something else going on here, and you value your position, it would be in your best interest to tell me now."

"Alright, Roger" Kerri thought wearily, " you asked for it, here it is, both barrels and the stock. Let's see how you like this one." Hume and Hardesty, giving Jack's personal business a colonoscopy, were bound to come up with it anyway. No sense in waiting for them to come galloping into this office with it like a couple of eager tattletales. Kerri could feel her body temperature drop as she told Roger Kendall about Mason Lancer. Fifteen minutes later, placed on "indefinite administrative leave", she headed for home. Roger's parting comment about her reconsidering both her job and the impact that her being the "daughter of a traitor" could have on Colby's FBI career further shredding her confidence. A sleepless night later, Kerri had come to the conclusion that she had to get off the merry-go-round from hell, at least for a while. Simply picking up and disappearing from L.A. would only stoke the suspicion flaring up around her. She couldn't see or talk to Colby. If she did, her resolve to protect him by keeping clear of him would go right out the window. She picked up the phone to call the only other person in Los Angeles whom she trusted enough to confide in and then began packing.

* * *

Despite what he'd told Don Eppes, Colby Granger had zero intention of seeing the green of a golf course, or a beach or any other recreational surroundings any time soon. What he meant to do, what he was determined to do, and nothing and nobody better get in his way, was to talk to Kerri.

He loved her, and he knew she loved him. The craziness that had enveloped their relationship in the short span of three days could not change that. He didn't know why she'd suddenly chosen to avoid him, although he suspected the lion's share of the blame lay with what she'd revealed about Lancer Saturday night. She'd had a chance to replay the conversation in her mind and now her fears were doing the driving. Colby knew what it was like to have your life hijacked by somebody else's mess. He knew how quickly you could start to feel isolated and how fast your skewed mental processes could have you believing that no one would ever be able to forgive or understand. Not true. He did understand, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to forgive. She hadn't done anything wrong. Lancer being her biological father was an accident of birth, not something she could've controlled any more than she could control how much rain L. A. received each year. Colby wished she would have told him sooner, and not waited until she feared Lucern was about to do it for her, but thinking about it, he understood why she'd waited until she thought she had no choice, (although now he got David's reaction to the whole undercover assignment thing a lot better). His immediate goal was to hold her, make her realize what she'd told him didn't change how he felt about her, and that what they had found in each other was worth holding on to. Mason Lancer had taken enough from Colby's life. No way was Colby about to let the man reach out from his grave and take Kerri too.

* * *

Pulling into a space in the lot he knew Kerri preferred to use, he quickly scanned for her car, but did not see it. That didn't have to mean anything. She could be away from the office on business, parked elsewhere, in court, a lot of things. He chose not to try and reach her by phone again. If she was avoiding him, no sense in letting her know he was coming.

The FBI credentials he still had in his possession thanks to Don helped him pass thru the building's security easily. Territory breeched. Phase one of the mission complete. Phase two consisted of a brief recon of Kerri's work area. No joy. Colby didn't see her, but again, that did not mean no Kerri. Only that he didn't have line of sight from his present position. He decided to move further into the target zone. Since he'd been here before, visiting Kerri once or twice at her office, his face wasn't unknown to her fellow attorneys. Normally the recipient of a preoccupied nod or two he got kind of a weird reception this time. The glances thrown in his direction seemed nervous and uneasy. The row of frosted glass cubicles where Kerri's desk was located were near the back of the room, so he headed for them. Before he could achieve his objective, however, Granger was intercepted by none other than Robin Brooks. Her startled reaction upon seeing him, tinged with the same nervous energy he'd read from the other ADA's set his internal alarm ringing.

"Colby!" Robin stopped suddenly in front of him, mouth slightly ajar with surprise. "What, um, what are you doing here?" she questioned warily.

Her attitude, not hostile, but not friendly either, turned up the volume on that inner alarm of his. If he didn't know better, he could swear Robin was fighting the urge to look over her shoulder.

"Hey, Robin. Nice to see you too" Colby returned dryly, resisting the kneejerk urge to interrogate in response to her almost suspect like behavior.

" I should have thought that would be obvious. Don't really have a lot of reason to be coming around here. I, uh, I'm looking for Kerri. I've been calling her, even went by her place a couple of times. Can't seem to find her, so , I thought I'd try here." He stopped speaking and observed. There. Right there. He would have missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention. Robin, normally cucumber cool, let her prosecutor's dead pan trial face slip for an instant. A miniscule, involuntary movement of her head gave her away more. Robin's twitch carried her eyes not towards Kerri's desk, but in the direction of their mutual boss Roger Kendall's office. Enough of this.

""Robin, what's wrong? And what does it have to do with Kerri. I think I deserve to know, and I think you can tell me. I'm not leaving here without some answers. Is she here? If she's not, where is she? Come on Robin. I love Kerri. I'd never hurt her. You know that. She and I, we need to talk. It's important. If you're her friend, tell me where she is!" His voice rose slightly, attracting attention.

Robin, regaining her composure and frowning slightly, swiftly ushered Colby into her small private office, closing the door. "Colby, Kerri's been place on administrative leave, indefinitely. Or at least until they find out who's responsible for Jackson Lucern's, uh, untimely demise." Robin informed him reluctantly.

"What! Robin, Kerri had nothing to do with Lucern getting offed. Nothing. No thing! Why is she being blamed for it! And by who!?" Angered but not surprised by the news, he paced Brooks's office, combating the desire to put his fist thru a wall. After his distasteful session with Lennox and Gorman yesterday, he'd hoped that Kerri would be spared a similar experience. Guess not.

"Colby, I know she's innocent of any wrongdoing. _I_ believe that! I'm her friend. You know that! I know she's not a murderer. And by the way, I know you're not either. I don't like it any more than you do. But, I have absolutely no control over any of it! I've already talked to Roger, tried to get him to see…"

"Kendall thinks Kerri's guilty? Roger Kendall is a political hack who's only concerned about getting re-elected. That self-serving cretin is throwing Kerri under the bus to protect himself!?" Colby was furious. He'd wheeled around to head for the head DA's office and he found his path blocked by Robin.

"Hold it! Hold on, Colby! Are you trying to make things worse for her!? Are you? Because if you blow into Roger's office like the First Airborne and start breathing outrage all over him, that's exactly what you're going to do!" Robin said, pushing Colby back into the room. "You want to help her, you've got to calm down!" Brooks was trying to be at her most persuasive.

Huffing and puffing like a winded rodeo bull, he got himself under control with a tremendous effort. Robin had a point. He couldn't argue that. Like it or not, Kendall was Kerri's boss. Nailing the man to his desk by his privates might mitigate Colby's rage, but it probably wouldn't be in Kerri's best interest.

"I know, it's just…" he ground his teeth together, feeling helpless and frustrated. "She doesn't deserve any of this. Lucern came after her, not the other way around. Kerri loves what she does. She loves the law. This sucks!"

"I agree, and just so you know, I'm not done arguing Kerri's case. I also intend to do what I can on the investigative side. We've just got to be careful. The last thing I want to do is give Hardesty and Hume more ammunition to use against Kerri" Robin told him.

"Hardesty and Hume?"

"Yeah, those are the investigators assigned to the case by the prosecutor's office. They grilled Kerri pretty good yesterday. Gave her a real going over. And then this morning, she gets called into Roger's office." Robin shook her head, saddened for her friend.

"Robin, where is she? I know you know. Please tell me. We need to talk, and I'd like to be there for her. We, she and I, we're stronger together."

Robin's hesitancy returned. Turning her back on him, she stared at her desk top. "Uh, Colby…I do know where she is. She's not in L. A. right now. After the past couple of days, she needed to get out of here in the worst possible way. Jack's murder, being interrogated, her job on the line. I think she really felt bombarded. It was all making her crazy and she had to go somewhere she could breathe again. Get away from everybody and everything connected with Los Angeles."

'I'm pretty sure that's not meant to include me, Robin" he said softly, trying not to sound pleading.

Lips pursed, Robin faced him grimly. "I'm afraid it does, Colby. She…Kerri specifically told me…when she talked about getting out of L.A., and leaving it all behind for at least a while, she told me she especially meant you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters…and all the rest**

Chapter 4

Arms and legs pumping with disciplined effort, Colby Granger traversed the semi-deserted streets of his neighborhood, indulging in his routine morning run. The rising sun bathed him in an early morning glow as the new day made its debut. Regulating his breathing with practiced ease, he moved past a mixture of shops and residences that were just beginning to stir with signs of life at six a.m. He tried not to let his mind wander, to keep to the present activity. Putting a foot down wrong, stepping in a hole, or getting hit by some half awake motorist would be a piss poor way to start his Tuesday.

It didn't work. No matter how hard he tried to keep her out, Kerri Walton persisted in creeping back into his thoughts. He couldn't believe she'd just left him without a word. Without giving him a chance, giving their relationship a chance to right itself. She'd just run away. That…it didn't make…he didn't get it! Kerri wasn't the cut and run type. She was a fighter. In every sense of the word. Crawling into a hole and pulling it in after her, that wasn't the Kerri he'd gotten to know. Something else factored in. He couldn't make the pieces fit at the moment, but that might be because he didn't have them all. Robin Brooks could've probably provided a few more, but would not. Robin's words were as gently couched as she could make them, but she held firm. Kerri did not want Colby to know of her whereabouts, and Robin, however much she might disagree with the rightness of it, intended to honor her friend's wishes. No amount of impassioned argument by Colby was able to sway her. A discontented, decidedly unhappy Colby finally accepted Robin's position and left her office, unsure of what he should do next.

Following a night of restless, dream filled slumber, he was still pondering how to handle things. Between Mason Lancer and Jackson Lucern, Kerri had been stalked enough by men who refused to take no for an answer. She hardly needed another man in her life who ignored the boundaries she set. Maybe what she needed was a little peace. To be left alone for a while. Maybe he should just accept that and give it to her. On the other hand, he knew she was out there somewhere giving herself a mental and emotional beating she did not deserve. He hated that thought and felt the need to do something about it. How was he supposed to if they were separated by who knew how much distance? His job put him in a unique position. Despite Robin's refusal to help, Colby knew he had the ability and resources to track Kerri down if he really wanted to. But just because he could do it, should he? Wouldn't he be guilty of the same offence as Lancer and Jack Lucern? Would it help or hurt? He didn't know, and he couldn't summon the clarity to figure it out, not now.

He put it all out of his mind, forcibly switching his thoughts to the mundane task of securing breakfast. All else aside, the run had helped work up a considerable appetite. He'd think better on a full stomach anyway. Turning left at the next corner, he headed for Perreti's Bakery. Lucking up on the place a few months ago, during another of his jogs, he made the happy discovery of their baked on the premises breads and rolls. Their mouth watering, warm, enticing scents sometimes pervaded the entire area, drawing patrons for miles. Granger was one of them on an at least a once a week basis. Perreti's had become a staple for him, and this was a good day for a comfort fix. He always made a point of carrying twenty dollars on him in a zippered pocket of his running shorts, along with his apartment key and ID. Slowing as he approached the shop, he passed the alley where the bakery's deliveries of baking supplies and other items were ferried in. He glanced to his right, expecting to see nothing but empty space, but that's not what he got. A man he recognized as the owner of the little shop, Nino Perreti, back to the brick of the building's rear exterior was being battered and kicked to the ground by a much larger, younger, brutally callous assailant. The knife wielding thug slashed at and screamed obscenities at his terrified victim, continuing to kick the helpless owner as he fell. Colby could see Nino's more obvious injuries from fifteen feet away. No time to call for help. The besieged victim wouldn't last that long. Granger sprang into action.

"Hey!" he yelled, drawing the perp's attention away from the bloodied baker. "Leave him alone! Get off him!" Colby accompanied the words with a sprint down the alleyway, years of training and experience gearing up.

The filthy would-be killer, preparing to meet this unexpected threat, yelled and slashed viciously at the air in front of the rapidly approaching Good Samaritan who'd ruined his plans for an easy score. The desperate, drug induced swipe, fueled by meth, was only partially successful. The evil looking instrument penetrated the thin cloth of Granger's sleeveless T-shirt, inflicting a shallow but wicked gash across Colby's torso. Granger hissed at the pain, arching backwards to avoid another pass of the blade. Doing his hand to hand instructors at Quantico proud, he stepped inside the next attempt, gripping the methhead's knife hand and forearm in both his own hands and twisting, pulling the weapon hand forward. At the same time he used his own body mass and weight to swing his opponent around, so that Colby was able to plant his upraised knee in the druggie's back, further destabilizing him. They both slammed to the ground, breath whooshing out of the mugger as the back of his head banged against the concrete of the alley. Colby landed atop the dazed man, administering the coup de grace in the form of an expertly applied right hand jab. The knife, stained with blood, fell from the limp hand of the unconscious criminal.

Colby straightened, carefully nurturing his wounded left side. He spared a few seconds to inspect it and could see that the cut, while stinging, didn't look serious. He'd need stitches though, or something. He secured his prisoner, and then checked on the unnerved Nino, finding the bakery shop owner not seriously hurt, (the knife cut clothing but missed flesh),but mostly dazed and upset. Granger's timely intervention, coming early in the attack, saved Perreti from critical injury. Banging on the rear door, Colby got the attention of Perreti's granddaughter, who phoned 911. Soon, the awakened doper was on his way to the ER in the company of two of the LAPD's finest, and Granger and Perreti were being seen by physicians, having their various ailments tended.

Trying to avoid putting pressure on his freshly closed up and bandaged side, Colby was soaking up the questionable comfort of the ER bed, lights off in the curtained off cubicle. Getting the wound treated had been very not fun. The doctor, good at his job, worked quickly and efficiently, but his patient thought the medico could've given the anesthetic a little more time before beginning his work. Mindful of his status as a macho fed, Granger put a lot of effort into not whining in the presence of the police officer taking his statement as the doctor patched him up. Finally, he was left to recuperate in peace, which he was trying to do when the lights abruptly flickered on as the curtain was drawn back. Opening his eyes against his better judgment, he looked into the concerned faces of Don Eppes and David Sinclair.

"What is it with you, Colby? Do you need a keeper or what? You go out for a run and end up getting stabbed!?" David asked him, worry giving his questions an aggrieved edge.

"It's not like I planned it, David!" Colby defended himself. "I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Mr. Perreti was in trouble. There wasn't time to yell 'help police!' and wait for them to get there! And what are you doing here anyway?! How'd you even find out about this!? Besides I got slashed not stabbed." Pain made him irritable.

"Alright, alright, alright! Break it up, both of you" Don intervened. Sinclair and Granger sometimes reminded him uncomfortably of a certain pair of siblings. "Gary Walker called. One of the officers who responded to the scene knew who you were. He called Walker, who called me, and here we are" Eppes explained. "Doc says it's minor, but how ya feelin'? That must smart quite a bit." Don said, giving both his agent's time to simmer down some.

"I've had worse pain" Colby said, "but I can't lie. It doesn't feel good. I'm trying not to blubber, but… David?" He waited for Sinclair to come closer.

"Yeah, man, what is it?" David asked solicitously.

"Would you…would you hold me!?" Granger said, springing the trap, batting his eyelids outrageously.

David, prepared to assist with whatever request Colby made, froze in astonishment, then shook his head. "You idiot!" he said, laughing. "Can I _please_ shoot him?" he asked Don.

"No" Don replied, chuckling. "Okay, listen Colby I'm gonna go check with your doc so we can get you out of here." He leveled a pointing finger, waving it back and forth between them. "Behave children" he said, disappearing.

* * *

The setting sun illuminated the corners of Granger's living room with late afternoon amber as he waded into the kitchen to retrieve his bowl of vegetable beef soup from the microwave. Deposited in his apartment by Don and David, who went back to work, all three studiously ignored the awkwardness of Colby's job status. He gobbled a half dosage of the pain pills prescribed by the doctor and sacked out. His growling stomach awakened him hours later, demanding that he put something in it. Hence the soup. The canned stuff wasn't too bad in a pinch, he reflected, blowing on it to cool it down. His belly rumbled again in protest at the delay. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Here it comes. Wait a second" he told it. The first spoonful was headed for his mouth when he nearly burned himself as the doorbell sounded.

"Figures" he muttered, placing the steaming bowl on the counter. He checked the peephole, more than a little surprised at the identity of his visitor. Opening the door, he gave his curiosity free rein.

"Hi Robin, what brings you here? I didn't realize you knew where I lived."

"Are you going to invite me in?" Robin Brooks asked, jittery. "It's a nice hallway and all but, um…"

"Oh, sorry, sure, uh, come in. He moved back, slightly embarrassed. Closing the door, he turned around to face her. "Can I get you a cup of coffee, or a glass of ice water or something?" Colby asked Robin, Grandma Granger's voice bouncing around inside his head.

"Uh, no, no I'm fine. As a matter of fact, I came here to give you something."

"You did? What would that be?" He couldn't imagine.

"This" Brooks answered, pulling a small slip of paper out of her pocket, holding it out to him. "It's where you can find Kerri." She gave him a look that must have driven countless defense attorneys' bananas.

Colby was immobile for a moment. "I thought you promised Kerri you wouldn't do this" he said, accepting the address, not bothering to hide his confusion.

"I did" she said. "But I got to thinking about it. I'm Kerri's friend. And sometimes being a friend means using a little tough love. She might be upset with me at first, but she'll get over it. Besides, you were right. You and she are stronger together. So…go get her!" Robin saw herself out, an enigmatic smile accompanying her into the elevator.

Colby didn't waste any time, all his doubts banished in an instant. Keeping Gorman's frigid warning about not making it necessary to look for him in mind, Granger called Don, letting him know of his travel plans. Dropping his passport in the mail with Don's home address on the envelope, he called LAX. He had a plane to catch.

* * *

"Now I know what Kerri will look like in her early fifties" Colby silently mused the next day, seeing the woman before him. The lady answering the door of her Seattle home had the same green eyes as the woman he loved. The dark hair was streaked attractively with a smattering of grey, but the woman's identity was unmistakable.

He introduced himself. "Mrs. Walton, my name is Colby Granger, and I'm in love with your daughter." If that didn't get him past the threshold, nothing would.

To her credit, Jane Walton only hesitated for a few seconds before moving aside to allow Granger in. Since he couldn't see her face, he missed the combination of concern, curiosity and happiness his presence produced. "I'll bet my beautiful, smart, pigheaded kid never saw this one coming!" she crowed to herself, closing the door. She addressed Colby. "Please, come in, sit down." Gesturing down the hard wood floor hallway, she lead the way to the living room of the Victorian style home.

"Mrs. Walton, uh, maybe I should explain a little further" Colby stuttered, nerves setting in. He'd carefully rehearsed what to say during the entire flight from L.A., thru the landing at SEATAC airport, claiming his one bag from the carousel, renting a car, and the drive to Kerri's parent's house. (Go GPS!).Seated opposite his girlfriend's mother for the first time, under these circumstances, he forgot it all, every word. His mouth opened, but no words emerged. "Nice one" Colby fumed at himself. "Now she probably thinks you're an imbecile."

She rescued him. "You've had a long flight. Can I get you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?" Her calming smile helped.

"Uh, now that you mention it, I guess I could maybe use a glass of water?" Granger needed to buy time to get his act together, and his mouth and throat felt like the Mojave.

"Of course" Kerri's mother said. "I'll be right back. Please, make yourself comfortable." Another gracious smile, and then she left the room. What Colby didn't know was that as soon as she was out of his sight, she dashed up a flight of stairs that led from the kitchen to the second floor of her home, and into the master bedroom, startling her dozing husband awake.

"I was just resting my eyes!" Steve Walton insisted, bolting upright, scattering the morning paper all over the bedroom floor. Highlights from sporting events of the previous days flashed on a nearby TV, completely ignored.

"Rest 'em later babe, company's arrived! Kerri's Colby is downstairs! Up and at 'em, Detective Captain Walton, we've got male!" Jane tapped her spouse on the shoulder, rousting him out of his cushy lounger. She raced back down to the kitchen for a bottle of cold water from the fridge and a glass.

"What?! Colby Granger?" Steve Walton knew all about Colby. Over the last eight months, he'd been fully briefed, via his talkative wife, on his daughter's relationship with her new beau. Kerri brimmed with happiness during her calls home, due largely to the man now seated, according to Jane, on the sofa in his living room. Until this week, Steve considered. His little girl had shown up on their doorstep, full of sadness, red-rimmed eyes shining with unshed tears. Kerri refused to tell her worried mother and father what caused her upset, only that Colby was not at fault. No matter how hard they tried, Kerri remained tight-lipped about the problem, only saying she needed time to think about things. "What things?" Steve and Jane pressed. "Things" came the one reply their daughter would give. Maybe Colby Granger, materialized here in Seattle, could answer the question.

By the time Steve entered the room, his wife had taken Colby's jacket and gotten their guest started on an explanation of his trip. Standing, Colby nervously greeted Kerri's dad. The man who genuinely qualified as her father, he reminded himself.

"Colby Granger, sir. I'm Kerri's…that is she and I…um…" Oh boy, this just kept getting better for him. First he forgot how to talk in front of Kerri's mom, and now he's the 'great articulator' in front of her father. Right now they were probably thinking one of the Three Stooges would make a better choice for their daughter.

"Kerri's told us a lot about you. It's nice to finally see you in person." Walton discreetly scrutinized the man his daughter had chosen.

Not discreetly enough. Colby, somewhat adept at picking up non-verbal clues his own self, noticed the look.

"Uh, Kerri and I, we sort of need to talk. We've kinda got some unfinished, important business to hash out."

"Kerri's not here" Jane Walton blurted, wishing she could put her hands on her wayward child.

"I, but, Robin…that is, uh, one of her friends back in Los Angeles said that, uh, well, she told me Kerri came home to visit for a while? Colby's bafflement showed clearly. Robin had no reason to lie to him. Did she?

"Oh, she did. She's here in Seattle. What my wife meant" Kerri's dad explained, "is, um, Kerri spent the night at an old friend's house. Her best friend from high school. They've stayed in touch over the years. We're not sure when she'll be back." Steve was apologetic and relived at the same time.

Jane decided to put all of her cards on the table. "Kerri won't tell us what's wrong, but it's pretty clear something is. I believe you care about her, but more pressure is not what's good for her, Colby, not now. I can tell she's hurting. We know you didn't cause it, but we don't want to see her in any more pain than she already is." Jane liked this young man instinctively, but protecting her daughter came first.

He'd have to convince them, Colby saw. Alright, then he would. "How much do you know about what's been happening with Kerri over the last few months?" he asked.

"Only that she seemed very happy. That her career was going well and that she loved talking about you" Steve Walton answered. "Not much else. Certainly nothing about what's bothering her now."

Granger nodded. "Then you should know the rest." So, he told them. Everything. How he Kerri met, her problems with Jack Lucern, glossing over the more terrifying aspects of the kidnapping ordeal as much as possible, and ending with Lucern being murdered and he and Kerri being on the suspect list. Even Kerri's "administrative leave" at the hands of Roger Kendall. Kerri might not be too happy with him later on, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

All in all, they took it fairly well. Steve swore and rose, pacing the floor angrily. Jane Walton merely stared at Colby, one hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

"They actually think my girl could have murdered this Lucern? Kerri could never do something like that! No matter how much the bum deserved it!" Mr. Walton was crimson with displeasure.

"I know that! And the investigators will too! There's no evidence tying either of us to the murder because we didn't do it. That'll come out! But, as much as I hate to say it, we're gonna have to give that time to happen. I'm not any happier about it than you are, but there it is." Granger finished helplessly.

"It's no wonder she's been walking around here like a shade! Those sons of…They did that to my baby…I should go to L. A. and…" Steve did a slow simmer, no outlet for his fury.

Colby cleared his throat. "There, uh, there's a little more to it."

Apprehensively, wondering how much worse the news could get, Steve and Jane Walton waited to hear.

"She told me about her…about Mason Lancer" Colby said, devoutly hoping that name would not open the proverbial can of worms.

Retired cop Steve read Granger's body language. "I know about Mason Lancer, Colby. I've known since shortly after I met my wife. It's not a secret. You can relax."

"You know about the whole spy ring business? About Lancer's treason?" With only so much he could tell them, the rest still being classified, Colby hoped he wouldn't have to say too much more.

"We get the news way up here in Washington state too, you know" Jane said, injecting a measure of dry humor. "We know. And you probably should stop right there. I don't imagine there's too much more you can say anyway" she told Colby.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree. He could see where Kerri got at least some of her smarts.

"Yes, ma'am, you're right. I can't. But I can tell you this much, Kerri thinks that I don't want to be with her anymore since she told me who her _biological_ father was. She couldn't be more wrong. I love her. I don't care about anything else. We have a great future together, she and I. We deserve one. I'm not going to let her give up on us or on her career. She's a good person and she has the right to a good life. I'm here to convince her of that."

Kerri's mom was about to answer Colby's statement when the sound of a car outside precluded her. A door slammed and running footsteps heralded someone approaching the front door. Swinging it open, Kerri entered.

"Hi mom, dad. The prodigal returns" Kerri announced, slipping house keys back into her purse. She looked up wondering why neither of them replied, right into the searching leaf green eyes of Colby Granger.


	5. Chapter 5

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are all mine, so blame me if you don't like 'em. They had no say in the matter…On with the story**

Chapter 5

"Colby! You're here? How…How did you…?" Kerri trailed off. "How did you know where…never mind. Robin gave me up." She made the words a statement, not a question.

"Yes, she did" Colby confirmed. He stood up and walked over to Kerri, close enough so that she could feel the radiant heat from his body. She looked up at him, inhaling the heady scent of spice and cedar that clung to him.

"Umm umm" Mrs. Walton cleared her throat loudly. She'd watched, with great interest, as Kerri reacted to Colby Granger's presence. Colby was even more interesting. He and her daughter were drawn towards each other like the opposite ends of two magnets. Jane doubted if either remembered or cared that there were two other people in the room.

"Why don't we leave you two alone? You can discuss things" she said. She pushed her equally interested husband toward the kitchen, speaking volumes to Kerri's dad without saying a word.

"Hey" Steve complained. "I want to hear this. I think I'll stick around." He parked himself on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed. He got a punch on the arm from his wife. "Steven Walton, kitchen mister! Come on, let's go!" She pushed him ahead of her, shaking her head at his broad grin.

Kerri recovered a little. "Mom, Dad, wh…where are you going? Uh…" she hurried over to murmur in her mother's ear. "What are you doing!?" she hissed urgently. "You can't leave now!"

"Kerri Lynn" Jane told her in a no nonsense tone, "this man came nine hundred plus miles to see you. No, he followed you here because he loves you and he's not willing to let you go without a fight. The least you owe him is an audience. When I left Mason, it was the right thing to do. Running from Colby isn't. Anyway, you don't want to. What you want is to be with him. So, be with him! Stick this out! Besides…" Kerri's mother whispered plenty loud enough to be overheard by the 'this' in question, "He's cute!"

Kerr flushed from head to toe. "Mom!" she exclaimed, mouth barely open.

Steve Walton lost it. Guffawing loudly, he finally allowed his exasperated spouse to maneuver him into the kitchen, giving Colby and Kerry privacy at last.

Colby couldn't help himself. He had to laugh. Kerri's folks were a riot. He got the feeling they were this much fun to be around all the time. Lucky Kerri.

The grandfather clock located by the front door chimed, the only sound in the quiet room.

"Well" Granger said, quoting from a favorite cartoon strip they both read, "once again, here we are."

Kerri recognized it. They both laughed. She grew serious first. "Colby, I'm sorry I left without saying anything to you. I truly thought that would be the best way to handle it. I mean, you're an FBI agent, and as Roger rather bluntly pointed out, even if he, for not one instant had any significant part of my life, and I wanted it to stay that way, I'm the "daughter of a traitor" by birth. Roger isn't the only one who will see it in that light. A lot of other people will too, after it comes out. And it will come out. I know that now. I can't keep it buried and I'm tired of trying. I might not be able to keep it from wrecking my life, but I can keep it from wrecking yours. After what he did to you, how much he…hurt you, I understand if you don't love me or want anything else to do with me. If you can't get past the connection." She walked away from him to one of the rooms decorative windows. She opened it to let in the fresh air.

He followed her to the window, close but still not touching. "Will you please look at me?" Colby requested gently. He waited until she turned, not looking him in the eye, focused on the hollow of his throat. Putting a finger under her chin, he raised her head and lowered his own for a slow, deep kiss.

He spoke into her ear. "If I didn't love you, and still want us to be part of each other's lives, I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

Kerri could feel Colby's smile as he caressed her ear with a feather light brush of his lips.

She summoned what little willpower she could under these conditions. "Colby" she prevented another kiss by placing her hand delicately over his mouth. "Colby, I love you, and I'm so glad you still love me back, but listen to me for a minute, please. Baby, sooner or later, one day, you'll wake up and look at me, and see him, Mason Lancer. Or, you'll have a bad dream about the freighter. Or somebody else will make a comment and you'll overhear. What about when it does go public, and people start digging into my life with a vengeance? Not only are they going to be talking about Lancer, but the subject of my FBI significant other is bound to come up. Don Eppes and David Sinclair and the rest of your team, the Bureau brass, all of your friends, how are they going to feel about us being together? What are they going to think? And say? To your face? Behind your back? I don't have a choice. I'm stuck with Lancer's DNA whether I want it or not. I 'm just gonna have to deal with whatever comes, but you don't. You can chalk it all up to a mistake. Walk away, get on with your life. Find someone who's not going to remind you of the day you" she inhaled deeply, "of the day you died."

Granger took Kerri's hands into his own. "Are you done? Yes? Good. My turn. I do love you. Do you remember what I said to you the night I told you I loved you for the first time? Before you told me about Lancer? Before the phone started ringing and everything spun off into looneyland? I said 'we Granger men, we don't fall in love halfway.' I feel so much a part of you, I could no more walk away from you than saw off one of my hands. I _don't_ see Lancer when I look at you, and I never will. I promise you that with all my heart. As for what anybody else might think, well, as much as I value David and Don and the team, as much as I love what I do, being part of the Bureau, they're not in this relationship. What you and I have, it's between us two. Nobody else gets a vote. They don't get to determine whether or not we're right for each other and they don't get to offer an opinion on whether or not we make sense together. That's for you and me to decide. Just us, no one else. Anyone, and I do mean anyone, who wants to make trouble out of it, let 'em bring it on. But I'll tell you this, they better bring it good 'cause they're only gonna get one shot." He kissed her again.

"You know" Colby said, as Kerri snuggled up, tucking her head under his chin, "you can't hide up here in Seattle forever. I love your parents. They great! And Seattle seems like a nice place. Beautiful country, nice people. I'm glad you could come here and let your guard down, get some rest and heal a little. But baby, your life's not here anymore. At least not all of it. Your professional life is back in L.A. You're a prosecutor, remember? 'Lock up the bad guys and throw away the key.' You worked hard to get there. You have to come back and fight for it, take it back. You're not Mason Lancer. You didn't have anything to do with him or his treason, or anything he did to me or anybody else. You gotta stop feeling responsible for him, Kerri. You don't deserve to carry his sins around on you back for the rest of your life."

"But I _do_ feel responsible" Kerri returned. "I feel like I have to make up for everything he did. Like I have to right all his wrongs. Undo all the pain he caused, all the shameful things he did. I feel like that's my job. Roger Kendall certainly shares that sentiment. He made that very clear when he informed me that I'm persona non grata around the office until he says different. I show my face there before the king gives permission, it's 'off with her head.' She sounded bitter, but resigned.

"Kerri, what I'm hearing from you is that Kendall knows about Lancer and he's using it against you!" Colby thought back to his conversation with Robin Brooks.

"Yeah, that's what I said, Kerri answered, moving out of the circle of his arms to sink down into a chair by the open window.

"Well come on!" Colby replied, "You can't let him get him get away with that. Who your parent's are isn't something you have any control over. You can't let him ruin a promising career, trash something you love to protect his chances at re-election! You can't do that! You shouldn't give him or anyone else that kind of power over your life! You earned your place there! You deserve to keep it. Why should it matter what Kendall or anybody else thinks! Come on! Don't just give it up without a fight! Take Kendall on! Or whoever else decides to weigh in. I'll help you! I'll be right there with you! You have done nothing wrong! Sometimes you gotta fight for what's rightfully yours! What do I have to do to make you accept that, huh!? Haul out a blackboard and make you write it five hundred times like a mopey second grader?" Colby deliberately allowed a note of provocation to creep in. This beaten down Kerri Walton wasn't the woman he knew and loved. The real Kerri, the fighter who tore into him in the parking garage for daring to come to her aid, was in there somewhere. Colby intended to wake that Kerri up and make her come out and face him. If he had to drag her kicking and screaming, okey dokey. Let battle be joined.

She jumped to her feet, a spark of temper in her jade eyes. "I'm not a bratty child!" she bit off between clenched teeth. "I do not appreciate being talked to like one!"

"Then maybe" Colby said, "you should stop acting like one, dragging around here with your chin hitting the floor. Making your parents worry! "Oh poor me! My career is over! Life is over! Woe is me! Nobody knows da trouble I seen! That's not even pitiful, it's just irritating! So Mason Lancer's your natural father! Big freakin' deal! You've got a great dad in there who'd lay down and die for you! But are you thinking about what effect this martyr routine of yours is having on him, St. Kerri the divine!? Nooooo." Colby drew the word out sarcastically. "It's all about you, isn't it? Poor Kerri, 'Frankenstein's daughter.' Look not upon me for I am unclean! Give it a rest!"

Things just kind of went downhill from there. Kerri, raw emotions still near the surface after the past few days, erupted like a human volcano. Colby, warming to his subject, and seeing his objective in sight, leapt into the fray with colors flying. And what a fray it was. A splendid blowup. Kerri stomped her feet and screeched like an angry wildcat. Colby waved his arms like an animated windmill, yelling at the top of his lungs. Fingers were shaken in faces. Insults and accusations flew thick and fast, turning the air blue. Contained by the thick walls of the Walton home, the open window was the only clue for the neighbors of the ear-splitting ruckus going on inside.

Kerri's parents, who'd only retreated as far as their kitchen had front row seats to the entire show. Peering thru the crack in the wooden kitchen shutters, they both saw and heard as events devolved from tender and loving to loud and blusterous. Finally, Steve couldn't take it anymore. He walked around his wife, to go stand up for his little girl!

Jane Walton got in her husband's way. "What do you think you're doing? Freeze pal!"

"I'm going in there!" Steve said. "He can't take to our daughter like that! I thought I liked him, but I think I'm gonna throw the mook out!" All of his fatherly impulses were awakened.

"You will do nothing of the kind, Steven Walton! This is exactly what Kerri needs, and it's about time somebody said it to her! Every day since the news about Mason's treason broke, she'd been carrying around this big cross on the inside, flogging herself needlessly. I never knew what to do about it, how to shake her out of it! Well, Colby does! And more power to him! You sit right there" she gestured at a chair next to the kitchen's island, "and stay out of it!" Jane stationed herself in front of the kitchen door like a sentry.

The argument in the next room wore on, gradually blowing itself out. Twenty minutes passed, the volume of the disagreement decreasing slowly but surely. After several minutes of silence, Jane pushed the door open with burglar like finesse to investigate, her husband's head popping out just above hers.

Kerri and Colby were wrapped in a passionate embrace, mouths locked together, hands roaming one another's bodies, rediscovering familiar landmarks. That explained the silence.

Pushing Steve back into the kitchen, Jane grabbed car keys and handbag from their place on the counter with one hand, grabbing his arm with the other. "Come on, Cap. I think I'm, gonna let you buy me a drink and a late lunch. Maybe even treat me to a movie" she told him.

"But what about…?" he pointed towards the living room.

"Oh, I think they can handle it from here. Come along, you gorgeous hunk of man flesh" she teased, opening the side door leading to the garage. "Play your cards right, you might get lucky yourself later." Yelling a goodbye to Kerri and Colby, she pulled her hubby into the garage.

* * *

A tiny, disassociated part of Kerri vaguely registered her parent's departure, her mother yelling something about lunch and a movie. At least that's what she thought her mother said. She didn't hear it very clearly. Her mind wandered in a sensuous fog, delicious shivers running down her spine as Colby traced a delicate path down one side of her neck with kisses. Her hands were at work as well, being careful of his healing wound, but finding so much joy in feeling the hard body underneath her fingertips. His hands were…The fingertips of one followed the curve of her back down the center, moving agonizingly slow from top to base and back again. The other undid the buttons of her blouse, exposing the creamy skin of a breast, which he tasted. He raised his head so that he could look into her eyes as his now free hand traveled even further down her body, undoing the front of her jeans, sliding past the lacy undergarment she wore to the silkeness of her. His touch electrified her. Taking him by the hand, she half dragged him with a wicked smile, thru the dining room and into the kitchen, headed for the upper floor. They were nearly to the stairs before Colby stopped short, catching Kerri off guard.

"What, what's wrong baby?" She narrowly had the presence of mind to ask. "I thou…I thought you wanted to…to…don't, don't you want to?"

"Kerri!" Colby told her, controlling himself with strength he didn't know he'd possessed before now. Want to? It was all he could do to keep from taking her on the kitchen floor of her childhood home! "Baby, you have no idea how much I want to!" Colby gritted out.

"Then, what is it? I don't understand."

"Kerri" Colby managed, with the part of his brain north of his belt buckle that was still functioning, "honey, it's your mom and dad's house. I mean, uh, in your parent's home? What are they gonna think if, if we, you know…?"

"Colby, baby" Kerri said, taking his face in both her hands, "They went to the movies so we could be alone!" She drilled him with a meaning laden look.

Hey, they did, didn't they, Colby thought. Click. He shot her a goofy, eager grin. Bounding past Kerri up the stairs, he was waiting as she reached the top, clasped her to him, and pinned her against a wall in another erotic clinch. It lasted for a while before they came up for air.

He twisted around, having three rooms to choose from. "Which one is yours?" he gasped out.

"It doesn't matter, baby! Pick a bed, any bed!" Kerri responded, her voice husky with desire.

By sheer dumb luck, they ended up in Kerri's, after obliterating the world record for getting naked. Fortunately, for the neighbor's ears, the screams issuing from the Walton house this time were block by heavy leaded glass windows.

* * *

Pushing the door open cautiously, Jane Walton listened for any telltale signs of amorous activity that might still be in progress. Behind her, Steve waited impatiently.

"Babe, what are you waiting for? Go on in. We live here, remember?" he prompted her.

"Steve, sweetheart, I'm trying to make sure the coast is clear. You know, in case they're still…discussing."

Kerri's dad tried not to think about what form that "discussion" might be taking. After all, the female half of the conversation _was_ his daughter. He knew she was a grown woman, leading her own life, but part of him would always see her as the seven year old he'd taught to ride a bike.

Nighttime hugged the streets outside, along with a fine Seattle mist, so Jane flicked up the closest light switch, giving the deserted interior some illumination. She heard nothing.

Steve's footsteps echoed on the stairs. Checking Kerri's bedroom, he yelled back down, "they're not up here!" He stoutly ignored the obvious indication that her bed had been, uh, vigorously utilized, choosing instead to close the door. That made him feel better, for some reason.

"Yes, I know" his wife said, coming up the stairs. She waved a piece of stationery in her hand. "Kerri left us a note. She and Colby have gone out. No telling when they might be back. How 'bout a sandwich and a beer apiece? I don't know about you, but my lunch is long gone." Laying her jacket and purse on their bed, she slipped off her shoes and headed back down.

"That sounds good" Steve said, reversing course himself. His stomach growled in agreement. They had been gone for six hours.

Sourdough bread, ham, turkey, and sliced roast beef were piled on the counter as Jane retrieved the remaining ingredients she knew she and her hungry husband preferred in a sandwich, when the front door opened, revealing Kerri and Colby. The latter's arms were encumbered with groceries. Making for the kitchen table, Colby gratefully relieved himself of the burden.

'Hi!" Kerri greeted her parents brightly. Jane noted the difference in Kerri's mood, foregoing any comment. "I thought I'd whip up some dinner for the four of us. Looks like we got back just in time. Put the deli back in the refrigerator, mom. Tonight's on me!" She began unpacking groceries.

"Hello" Colby said to Steve and Jane, watching Kerri bustle around the room. This Kerri, energetic and serene, in her element, was the Kerri he'd come to Seattle in search of. His eyes went wherever she did, a miniscule, indulgent smile hovering around his mouth.

Steve observed his happy daughter, and then took a gander at Colby, as the younger man watched Kerri immerse herself in creating a meal. Steve felt many of his qualms for his child fade. This man loved his daughter completely. She was in good hands.

"Can I help honey?" Colby asked, barely avoiding being mowed down by the whirling dervish Kerri turned into when she was cooking.

"Well, uh, yeah, baby. You can chop for me" she replied, handing him a knife and pointing him in the direction of a cluster of different types of raw veggies. No stranger to sharp objects, Granger rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and got to work.

Dinner was a joyous, loud affair, Kerri's parents, much to her embarrassment, filing Colby in on many of Kerri's childish adventures and exploits.

"I'm so glad I did this!" Granger exulted silently. "Kerri and I are back on track, she's coming back to L.A. with me, and she's gonna fight for her career. I got to meet her parents. I even think they like me (YEA!). His "vacation" might have begun on a sour note, he reflected, but things were definitely looking up. He couldn't have known how complicated and dangerous they were about to become.


	6. Chapter 6

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are still mine. This is really gonna get old.**

Chapter 6

Steve Walton shuffled yawning down to breakfast the next morning, drawn by the hypnotic smell of blueberry waffles and turkey bacon on a hot griddle. Following a quick peck on the cheek of his busy wife, he sat in his usual spot, opening up the _**Seattle Times**_ and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Yeah, he could get the news on the net these days, but he was an old fashioned print junkie.

"Kerri not down yet?" he inquired sleepily. Their daughter traditionally liked to push getting out of bed as far back as possible.

"She never came back in last night" Jane replied. Mischievously pushing his 'daddy' button, she added, "I guess she and Colby found a hotel room for him after all."

Steven concentrated ferociously on his morning newspaper.

"I invited them for breakfast. They should be here any minute now" Jane informed him.

Right on queue the side door opened, and Kerri walked in, followed closely by Colby. Kerr's dinner of the previous night, mouth watering stuffed filet mignon, spicy sautéed vegetables and wild rice followed by a perfect topper of chocolate lava cupcakes, combined with the enjoyable company, made for a late evening.

Finally, though, Colby left, informing Kerri's parents that he had yet to secure lodgings for however long he might remain in Seattle. Kerri's mother promptly offered their guest room, lightly tapping her husband under the table to prod him into seconding the offer. As gracefully as possible, Colby declined. Making love to Kerri with her parents out of the house was one thing. Doing it with them twenty feet away, nuh uh. _So_ not happening. Especially since, he considered wryly, he and Kerri had a tendency to be rather, uh, vocal.

Breakfast, though delicious, proved to be a crowded business, conducted around the kitchen's snug nook.

"Mom, don't take this the wrong way. I could never find any fault with your blueberry waffles" Kerri mumbled around a mouthful of the same, "but why are we all crammed in here? Is there some reason why we aren't around the lovely spacious dining room table we ate at last night?"

Jane, in the process of pouring a second cup of coffee, cocked any eyebrow in Steve's direction. "Ask your father" she said with an air of longsuffering. Before Kerri's dad could volunteer an explanation, Kerri's mom jumped back in. "After you two left last night, he pulled that file of his out and spread it all over my table. It's still there."

'That file' Kerri knew, meant the Russell family. Her father's very own enduring obsession. A homicide detective for twenty two of his thirty years as a cop, Steven Walton prided himself on a solve/conviction rate a shade shy of eighty percent. Dedicated and tenacious, (Jane preferred the term bull-headed), he took the "somebody has to speak for the victims" part of his job to heart. People who got themselves murdered needed somebody in their corner. Somebody to make sure the mutt who did it to them answered for the crime. Steve figured that was him. Not too much got by him. Not too may killers, either. Sooner or later, thru perseverance and plain old fashioned good police work, he'd walked the majority of them down. But for Detective Captain Steven J. Walton (Ret.), there remained as far as he was concerned, one glaring blot on his nearly spotless record. That of the Russell family.

The mysterious vanishing in May of 1999 of Colin Russell, his pretty blond wife Aimee, and their young son Jeremiah, tested the skills of all the detectives assigned to the case. Two things everyone could agree on. First, something very wrong happened in that house. Blood splatter on the walls, overturned furniture and shattered crockery were mute testimony. Second, whatever overtook the family came without warning.

When police finally made entry into the Green Lake neighborhood home at the behest of panicked relatives, a violently interrupted evening meal sat cold and congealing on the dinner table.

A mini task force of six veteran Seattle homicide detectives poured over the evidence using all their experience to work out the ultimate fate of the family. Lead detective Steven Walton committed so much of his time to the cause that it occasionally tested the patience and understanding of his supportive wife, Jane. The calls home from law school by their daughter were often greeted with the words "your father hasn't made it home yet. He's still got his head in that case."

Officially on the books as missing persons, the abundant evidence of something darker drew the murder cops in right away. Hundreds of man hours were applied to the case. DNA science, more fledgling than it would be ten years later, came into play. The lives of Colin and Aimee Russell and even that of their child were intimately examined. Family members, close friends, co-workers, neighbors, all were interviewed. Nearly every object and item in the home was bagged, dusted or swabbed for possible clues. It all yielded nothing regarding the whereabouts of the three victims. And they were victims. But of what?

In time, differing opinions on that part of the investigation caused a division between the cops on the task force. Four of the six gradually settled on murder-suicide. Colin Russell, the theory went, under pressure both at work and at home due to an increasingly strained relationship with Aimee, killed the others and then himself. Steve Walton and his partner, Parker Wells, were the lone holdouts. For one thing, Steven maintained, Russell didn't fit the profile of a "family annihilator." For another, if the man did take out his entire family and then himself, where were the remains?

Days became weeks, then months. Eventually, the Russell case joined numerous others in the Seattle police department's cold case files. It remained so until the day Detective Captain Steven Walton, formerly head of the disbanded team, put in for retirement.

"You're a captain, Steve. You're not even supposed to be working cases, just riding herd on the poor schleps who are. Retire, go play some golf, chase your wife around the bed more often. Leave the cop work to the cops. Go on, man. You've earned it."

So he did. Telling himself "no one can solve them all, Steve, not even you. Let it go." And he'd tried. He really did. He played golf, chased Jane around, took her on long, adventured filled trips. All of the things a man was supposed to do with a much deserved retirement. But, as hard as he tried, as much effort as he put into it, Steve could never quite rid himself of the Russell family's tragedy. Unbeknownst to anyone except his wife, Det. Walton, on his last active day as a cop, made a complete copy of the case files. All the interviews, results of lab tests, finger prints lifted, crime scene phones, DNA, the would periodically revisit it. Trying to figure out what they'd all missed. To find the one break in the case that had proven elusive so far.

As the file lay spread out dining table of his home, Steve introduced an intrigued Colby to the Russell family. Unwillingly at loose ends for the near future, Granger saw no harm in asking his girlfriend's father, "Do you think a fresh pair of eyes would help?" When Colby asked the question, he had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

* * *

Kerri listened to the conversation between her dad and Colby coming from the next room as she helped her mother clean up after breakfast.

"Do you think it's a good or bad thing that Colby's getting sucked into dad's Russell fixation, mom?"

Jane sighed. "I wish I knew."

"Honey" Steve Walton stuck his head thru the doorway. "Colby and I are going to take a ride over to the Russell place. We'll try not to be gone too long."

"Daddy" Kerri objected, "I'd sort of planned to give Colby a tour of the city today! You know, let him see where I grew up."

"Oh" Granger put in. "I didn't know that, baby" He stopped, uncertain, caught between the two conflicting plans for his day. "So" he thought, "who gets to be pissed at me? Kerri or her father?"

Kerri solved the problem for him. "It's okay" she conceded, giving him a quick buss on the mouth. "I know how my father can be when it comes to the Russell's. Go on. I can show you Seattle…later."

Colby got the distinct feeling she meant something other than the Space Needle. So did her parents. He turned bright red. "Uh, okay honey. Uh, Steve, my rental's in the driveway. Why don't we take that?" he beat a hasty retreat, feeling the heat around his collar.

Jane snickered, while her husband pressed his lips together, determined not to give his wife the satisfaction. He grabbed his jacket and hurried to catch up to Colby, peals of feminine laughter dogging him all the way to the rented SUV.

* * *

"If I didn't know what happened here" Colby thought, "I'd never suspect it."

The picturesque Cotswold cottage style home sat well back from the road, the lawn and young trees bearing signs of neglect.

"Every lawn care service we find bails after a couple of trips" Nancy Markham had wailed. Her little real estate company was barely turning a profit. The prior owners of the business bailed after the housing market went bust in '08. Now charged with unloading the property, Markham from time to time entertained the notion of arson instead. Briefly passing thru the hands of three owners since the Russell's, it never stayed occupied for long. Seduced by its charm, buyers quickly fell out of love with the house after moving in, the last literally fleeing in the middle of the night. Spewing a wild story of paranormal goings-on and dark apparition's, the hysterical woman nearly ruined both Nancy's company and reputation. Only settling a costly lawsuit involving allegations of fraud and misrepresentation salvaged the situation. At her wit's end, Nancy had taken to driving past the house every so often, fantasies of burning dry wall dancing behind her eyes. "And it all started with what happened to that poor couple and that sweet little boy."

The grisly disappearance of the home's occupant's tainted the property forever in the minds of Seattle's residents.

So, Nancy was visibly shocked when Steve and Colby walked into her office on a mild, partly cloudy Thursday morning, requesting the code to the lockbox for 12973 Marshlight Lane.

Daring not to ask why, she handed over the code with scarcely a murmur, fingers and toes crossed. The handsome older man and the even better looking younger brown haired hunk with him could be life partners, father and son or house flippers. "Heck, they can shoot a porno movie in there for all I care" Nancy ruminated. The first nibble she'd had on the line in months, she wasn't about to refuse them. Her tepid offer to accompany them (frankly, she was as creeped out by the place as everyone else) was effectively countered by Colby's FBI identification. Suitably impressed, Nancy stayed mum, and stayed in her office.

Now, borrowed flashlight weakly penetrating the murky interior, Colby covered the ground floor of the former crime scene, trying to get an idea of what could have befallen the husband, wife and little ones who'd once dwelled there. Steve Walton prowled above, rechecking rooms so familiar he might have walked them with his eyes closed. With the home emptied of almost all furniture and any personal items**, **both men's footsteps echoed hollowly on the wood floors.

Cupping his hands together, Colby blew on them, rubbing them together briskly in some kind of attempt to keep the circulation moving.

"Must be all of fifty degrees in here" Granger whispered. Any colder and he'd be able to see it when he exhaled. He made his way into the dining room, seeing the layout in his mind's eye, trying to imagine the family eating, laughing, talking. Doing the normal things people did around the table at dinner time. Not exactly sure what this excursion could accomplish, he'd worked enough cases where homicide was involved by now to know studying the place where it happened could make the difference. Five years of following Don Eppes around had given Colby a healthy respect for thoroughness.

The home seemed utterly normal. No blood on the walls, signs of discord. No echoes of terror. Nothing. Just dust particles floating in the cool air, highlighted by the slivers of weak sunlight peeping around the drawn shades.

Pulling back a set of sliding wooden doors that separated the two areas, he stepped into the former living room. Colby shone his meager light source into all the space's dark corners. "If you could talk to me" he said under his breath to the house, "what would you be telling me now, huh?" The only witness to the Russell family's last moments was no more forthcoming now that it had ever been.

He checked the size and spacing of the windows, large leaded stained glass at the top, plain on bottom. "Hey, Steve!" he yelled, "I got an idea. I'm gonna step outside and close the door. Yell for me. I want to see how much can be heard from outside!" Getting the desired response, he then did just that, closing the door behind him and listening carefully. Steve Walton's booming baritone could only faintly be discerned from five feet down the front walkway. No wonder no one in the surrounding homes, somewhat removed from this one, were no help to the investigators. He headed back inside, opening the front door, head down. He raised it to see ahead of him, moving from what had been the kitchen into the dining room, the figure of a ragged, dirty man. Automatically, his trained brain cataloged details. Six feet, about one ninety, powerfully built, with filthy brown hair, couldn't tell what color the eyes were from this distance. And angry. Very angry. The man's teeth were barred in a silent expression of rage as the stranger glared at him. The large hands, caked in what appeared to be mud, were balled into fists.

Granger noted all of this in the span of a few seconds before reacting. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get it here?" As he moved towards the unknown person, the other turned, reaching the open basement door in a few strides. Pausing at its entrance, the grime covered man glared at Colby once more and then was gone from sight. "Hey come back here!" the FBI agent hollered, taking off at a run. At the opening to the basement, Colby halted long enough to direct the beam of his flashlight down into the blackness, hearing and seeing nothing from its depths. He started down. Steve's running footsteps told Colby backup was on the way. He took the first step down, longing intently for the gun he'd left secured in the gun safe in his apartment in L.A. He hadn't thought he'd need it on this trip. "Well now, that's what you get for thinking, isn't it?" he gave himself a mental kick. Step two, down a little farther. Step thr… He never completed it. Before his foot could make contact with the wooden step, Granger felt hands wrap around his ankle. Reaching thru the space between the steps, the hands grabbed hold and pulled. Granger lost both the flashlight and his grip on the railing, plunging headlong into the darkness. His helpless flight into the unknown culminated with a vicious whack on the head from the floor as he landed hard enough to wind him. He could only gasp in pain one time, then insensibility claimed him.

* * *

"Colby! Colby, come on, wake up! Open your eyes! Come on! Wake up! Wake up!"

Responding to the commanding note in the insistent voice, Granger groaningly forced his eyes open, to see Kerri's dad hovering over him, frantic concern written all over his face. He groaned again as Steve helped him into a sitting position on the concrete floor, hand reflexively going to his battered skull.

"Ouch!" he yelped as Walton's fingers found the point of impact under the flashlights beam.

"Sorry" Steve apologized. "Easy does it. You've got a lump the size of an ostrich egg. You think you're okay to try standing? We need to get you off of this floor."

"Yeah, ow! Yeah, I can stand. Ouch! Ouch! Ow, ow, whoa!" Head pounding from injury and exertion, with the other's help, Colby slowly got to his feet.

"What happened?" Steve asked. "Who were you talking to? I heard you yelling at someone. How'd you end up doing a swan dive down the stairs?"

"I, ouch! I had help! Somebody tripped me!" Colby replied groggily. "I saw a guy…there's somebody else here! Six feet, brown hair, really dirty. I saw him when I was coming back in! Standing in the dining room, looking _really_ not happy to see me! I said something and he ran. He ran back down these steps! Aauugh!" Granger looked around into the dank, almost lightless gloom, not able to see much. Moving his head even a fraction caused ripples of pain and dizziness.

"Colby, nobody else is here! Just you and me." Steve Walton inspected the room as best he could. The basement's only windows were far too small for anyone, let alone a six foot tall man to fit through. The only exit was the door at the top of the steps. "How would an intruder get out? He would have had to come past me and no one did! I got here maybe twenty seconds after I heard you yell. If anybody had come up, I would've see 'em!" Steve shook his head, bewildered. "Colby, did you say you got tripped?! By who? The guy was ahead of you right? How could he have… Would he have had enough time---? Never mind. We'll figure it out later. Right now, we have to get you to a hospital, get you checked out. Let's get up these stairs, hmm?"

"I'm ok. No docs necessary" Colby objected, embarrassment beginning to set in. He hadn't imagined the man, but like Steve, could see no way out other than the doorway. Yet he and his girlfriend's father were alone in the house. The tripping fingers were real too. Granger could still feel the imprint of his attacker's hands.

"You" Steve insisted, "are going to the ER. You have a head injury. We're going to get it looked at by a professional. Kerri is going to have my head as it is, and her mother's going to be holding the basket it'll roll into. Come on, no more argument. You're seeing a doctor. We can pick this back up later. Let's go."

Five minutes later, Colby sat eyes closed, head resting against the seat, hoping not to humiliate himself by upchucking all over the nice eco friendly hybrid during the ride to the hospital.

Behind them, the brooding presence of the Russell house receded into the distance, waiting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are mine, but you already knew that. Okay, here goes.**

Chapter 7

"I'm just checking in" Colby said to David Sinclair by cell phone. "Still in Seattle and everything's fine. I wouldn't want Gorman and Lennox to think I'm trying to skip the country or anything" he half joked to his partner.

"Yeah, nice try" David countered acidly from Los Angeles. "I already talked to Kerri. She told me what happened. Once you're back in L.A., I'm gonna talk to Don about implanting you with a microchip! You go jogging and get attacked by a knife wielding junkie. You go visit your lady and her parents and get your head cracked."

"I'm not a golden retriever, David! No way are you lo-jacking me! You're making too much of this. I don't have even a mild concussion, just a nasty headache. No big deal. I heal fast." Granger tried changing the subject. "What's going on as far as the investigation into Lucern's murder? Agents Dumb and Dumber making any progress, or are they still busy trying to pin this on me and Kerri?"

"You don't get off that lightly" David told him, not taking the bait. "You spend so much time in ER's they should start calling you 'doctor.' I know it'll take a huge effort, but at least _try_ to stay out of the hospital, ok? For me, for the team, alright? I think Kerri'd probably appreciate it too!"

"I will! Would you please let it go already! Geez, you're worse than a nanny! And you didn't answer my question. About the investigation. Anything changed?"

"They've been sniffing around our cases, 'specially the ones worked lately and Don, Liz, Nikki and myself have all been interviewed, actually more like interrogated. I think they're disappointed they haven't found anything they can use against you. None of the four of us can find out much, you know, cause of the ADIC, not even Don. I do have a few connections at the detention center. Lennox and Gorman have grilled everybody in the place over a slow open flame. So far, they seem to be coming up empty. Robin says the DA team isn't having any better luck. It looks to be slow going as far as leads are concerned. Wish I had better news."

"Yeah, me too. But it's not your fault you don't, so don't get all down about it. And don't get into any trouble because of me. I mean that. I don't need you taking a kick in the short hairs trying to run interference for me. Tell Nikki and Liz I said that goes for them too, huh?" Colby semi-admonished his friend.

"Now who's trying to play nanny?" Sinclair fired back. "I'll tell 'em, but we're all grown up FBI agents, you know. We know the score, so stop worrying about it. Might already be too late anyway. Nikki's interview with Lennox got real ugly. I thought she was gonna haul off and slug him. He lets his partner do the talking to her now. I think he's afraid to be alone in the same room with her!"

Colby could hear the amusement in David's voice. "He's not as dumb as he looks then!" Granger said, hiding his surprise. Bentancourt, indignant on his behalf. Whouda thunk it? "Look, I'll call again tomorrow. I'm still in the ER right now, waiting for them to release me. I'm not supposed to be on my phone, and I keep getting dirty looks from the nurses, so I gotta switch off. Tell Don I called, okay? Bye."

His obligatory call made, Granger turned the phone off, slipping it into a shirt pocket under the watchful disapproving eye of one of the nursing staff. His flippant comment to David regarding his throbbing head hadn't been that far off the mark. His granite hard skull spared him a concussion, the doctor had informed him, but Colby nonetheless possessed a class A pounder. It felt like a kettle drum concert up there. He lay back, waiting for Kerri to return with discharge papers and instructions. She and Jane insisted on coming to Kings Daughters hospital after receiving the news of Colby's accident from her father. Between her father, the doctor and Granger, a barrage of questions had been fielded from the two women. A protective Kerri planted herself at his side while test results were awaited. Which, this being a busy emergency room, took a sizeable chunk of time. Three hours to be exact.

"Mr. Granger" the doctor said, at last, entering the curtained off cubicle, "your x-rays don't show any concussion or otherwise serious injury. We're going to let you go home, under the condition that you take it very easy today. As much time off your feet as possible for the next twenty four to forty eight hours. If you feel dizzy or faint, or have any nausea, get back here right away, don't wait. Is that clear? Yes? Very well, I'll go arrange for you to get sprung." The doc left, taking Kerri with him. That must have been when she called David, Colby realized. He was tying his shoe when he heard shouting coming from the corridor.

"You had no business in that house, Steve. You're a civilian now! You don't get to stick your nose into cop work anymore! Why do I have to keep telling you that?!" The unfamiliar voice was angry, the originator making no effort to keep his voice down. "Stay away from the Russell place! Stay out of the case! Stay away period! You go farting around with an active case and screw something up, I'll make sure you're charged, ex-cop or not!" the man declared aggressively, pushing Steve Walton back with a hand to the other's chest. Walton returned the push, not intimidated.

"You don't ever want to put your hands on me Willis! It's not going to work out for you any better now that it would have before I retired! And the Russell case isn't active. It's so cold it's got frost! I'll check it out all I want, you got zip to say about it! Why do _I_ have to keep telling _you_ that?!" Steve moved forward, ready to back his words with action.

Steve's adversary was a tall, dark haired man with a florid complexion and greying hair at the temples. A small paunch failed to offset the broad shouldered build. A gold detectives badge and a gun were clipped to the man's belt. A sandy haired third man separated the two before hostilities could resume. "That's enough! Cut it out, both of you! Knock it off before you get us all tossed out of here!" This other guy, Colby could see as he approached, was a cop too, complete with badge and gun.

"Steve, what's going on?" Granger said, reaching the group just as Jane returned with four coffees held in a cardboard tray and Kerri appeared, Colby's release forms in hand

"Nothing much" Steve answered. "Detective Willis has trouble working and playing well with others, always has. He's having a problem comprehending that it's not his place to tell me what I can and cannot do with my retirement time. Doesn't really matter, the Russell case is officially listed as 'unsolved but inactive.' We can do whatever we want, no matter how pissy Marty here wants to get over it."

"You think I can't do anything to keep you out of it? You really think so? Huh? Keep thinking it! We'll see" Detective Martin Willis flared.

"Inactive case, bottom of the pile, or close to it, I'd think you guys would welcome all the help you can get" Colby spoke to the Seattle cops, keeping a conversational tone. He was trying to broker some kind of truce. Trying to figure out the Russell family's fate would be difficult enough without incurring the enmity of a couple of active duty homicide detectives. "If your caseload is anything like the ones we have to deal with every day at the Bureau, you probably have more than enough on your plates. You got no time to deal with a cold case anyway. Why not let somebody else take this one?"

His peacemaking overtures backfired. Eyes bulging, the belligerent Willis rounded on Colby.

"Am I supposed to be impressed 'cause Stevie boy here went out and got himself an FBI whore to help him do his sniffing around? Well, I ain't! That real estate broad Markham might be ready to drop her panties at the sight of some federal tin, but it don't mean jack to me. As far as I'm concerned, the FBI ain't dick, got it?" The detective was practically nose to nose with Granger by the time he finished speaking.

His punishing headache still making him miserable, Colby's tolerance level was nil. He blew up. He advanced on the other man, their chest's bumping as he forced Willis backward.

"You sure you want this fight detective? You're about to bite off a whole lot more than you want to try chewing on! Don't get your boxers all bunched up over this! It's a cold case. One you're not even working on. Or going to be to be working on. Now get out of my face! And don't threaten me. Go work your active cases. I'm sure your captain's more interested in clearing those." Disgusted and worn out, he looked at the wide eyed Kerri.

"Come on baby, let's go. I'm so ready to not be here anymore." He reached out, taking her by the hand.

"Gladly" Kerri answered, giving the unpleasant Willis and his partner a final hostile glare.

"We'll go bring the cars around" Jane offered, abandoning the coffee and pulling a still riled Steve along with her. Jane knew her husband. If she left him here she'd most likely end up having to post bail for him later on. The Walton's headed out, Steve for the parking garage and Jane to where Colby's rental was deposited in the emergency room lot.

For Colby the confrontation was over. He and Kerri were halfway to the exit when Granger felt a hand planted in between his shoulder blades, sending him staggering. Unprepared, he lost his balance. Saved from a fall by a large, equipment laden stainless steel cabinet, he still bumped his head.

"Ahaa!" The stars he saw were a perfect companion to the ringing in his noggin.

"Don't you walk away from me! I'm not done with you!" Willis had pursed them, unwilling to let the matter drop.

At the finish of a long, strange day, Colby lost what little control still remained to him. Putting all his weight behind it, he swung on the cop, leaning into the punch. He caught his target square in the mouth, drawing blood and knocking the detective to the polished linoleum.

Willis's partner, Rudy Thomas, Kerri and the hospital security guards, all speaking at once, intervened. The loud disruptive scene was settled by one of the ER's doctors.

"That's it! I want you people gone! Get these people out of my emergency room right now!" he ordered the security personnel. The doc waited long enough to see his orders implemented, then stalked off, muttering furiously to himself.

Once outside, the hot headed Marty Willis showed every sign of wanting to continue the fight, but Rudy Thomas was having no more of it. "Knock it off, Marty! Stop, now! Enough! Now go!" Thomas prodded his partner away from Granger and Kerri Walton, reaching their car as the Walton's vehicle with Steve behind the wheel and Granger's, piloted by Jane, pulled up to where their daughter and Colby waited.

"Did something else happen?" Steve questioned, watching the detective's car drive away.

"Never mind, Steve. It's nothing." Colby spoke before Kerri could give her dad the run down. "Let's just go, can we? I just want to get back to my hotel and lay my head on one of their nice, soft pillows"

Kerri had her own ideas about that. As she helped Colby into the passenger side of the SUV she continued. "You are not spending the night alone in a hotel room with a head injury. I know the doc said no concussion, but you're going to have company tonight, mister."

Steve said nothing. Wrong time for the role of overprotective father. He was also dealing with a health dollop of guilt. He felt responsible for Colby's knock on the head. "I should've said something. I should have warned him" Walton fretted silently. For Steve had known of the existence of the vanishing man. He'd seen him too, more than once. Not as up close as Colby, but he'd seen him, chased him, lost sight of the bizarre apparition. "I knew" Steve's conscience whipped him. "I should have said something" Walton didn't know who helped the younger man take his potentially fatal trip into the basement, but he'd known they might _not_ have been alone in the house. That the home's unusual 'guardian' might likely put in a showing. He'd stayed silent, not wanting to color Colby's opinion of the crime scene with a loopy tale of a shadowy boogeyman. "I should have said something." Feeling like an accessory to Colby's assault, he drove, following Granger and Kerri to Colby's hotel. They went inside, Colby moving slowly out of necessity. Jane and Steve went home.

Carefully making their way to Granger's room, Colby lowered himself gingerly onto the nice, broad queen sized bed. Kerri fussed, fluffing pillows, and pouring water. She helped him get undressed and under the covers, fending off his playful, half-hearted attempts to lure her in beside him.

"You're hardly in any kind of condition for that" she said, one hand cupping his chin. "You heard the doctor. Nothing strenuous for the next twenty four hours. Now behave. I'm going to order you a very light dinner."

The meal, combined with the stress of the day and the medication Colby still had in his system all caught up with him at the same time. After eating, he dozed off and on, comfortable and headache free for the first time in hours. Awakened by a light kiss on the cheek, he opened his eyes to see Kerri smiling at him gently.

" I'm going to go to mom and dad's and pick up a change of clothes. I'll be back before too long. Go back to sleep" She kissed him again and departed.

After she left, Colby lay in bed, body utterly relaxed, but mind going a mile a minute. This had been a day for the record books. Talk about weird, true and freaky. He be a good boy and obey doctors orders, but after that, after twenty four hours, with or without Kerri's father, he intended to pay the Russell home another visit. For Colby, who'd seen some wonky things in his travels, the jury was still out regarding the existence of ghosts, but that didn't matter. Raggedy Andy was corporeal, not some wispy figment of his imagination. Colby resolved to prove that once and for all, and to discover how Andy pulled off his magic disappearing trick so flawlessly, not to mention what it all had to do with the probable murders of the Russell clan. "I'm gonna figure out who tripped me on those stairs too" he thought, lips pressed together. He knew it wasn't Steve, so who? Now the Russell's were in his blood also. He'd pulled on the end of a very complicated thread. He would keep pulling until the whole tapestry of secrets rested unraveled in his hands.

* * *

"I should go in there and give the captain chapter and verse on every stupid thing you just did tonight!" Rudy Thomas raged at his partner. "Assaulting an FBI agent? Right in the middle of an ER!? Starting a brawl! Have you gone insane!?"

He and Martin Willis sat in their car in the parking lot outside of the Homicide division. Willis, calmer, but still with a stubborn set to his jaw, shot Thomas an annoyed look, but couldn't sustain the attitude. He hung his head, knowing Rudy's irritation with him was justified. His behavior and actions were inexcusable and unprofessional. But part of him didn't care. For as long as he could remember, being in the same room with Walton set his teeth on edge. He shared a lengthy, acrimonious history with Det. Captain (Ret.) Steven J. Walton, dating all the way back to Willis's rookie year. Marty's TO (training officer) and subsequent partner of several years, had been a cop named Cyrus Kelly. Cyrus, in Marty's opinion was one of the best officers in the history of the entire Seattle police department. He knew the job, the streets and the people like everybody else knew their name, and he'd taught it all to newly minted probationary officer Martin Willis, one day at a time. A lot of Cy rubbed off on his trainee. One of those things was Cy's attitude toward the public he was sworn to serve and protect. Most of them, Cy said, weren't worth a warm bucket of spit, but they were harmless. The rest, Kelly advised, you never, ever, turned your back on. Never. The second you did, they'd bury a knife in it up to the hilt. So keep your eye on them. Always. Cy taught Marty another important lesson. Everybody was corrupt or corruptible. Every man (or woman as the case may be), had their price. And all of 'em had something they didn't want anyone else to know. They all did. You just had to keep probing until you hit the sweet spot. After that, you owned 'em. They were like a sure payout slot machine. Cy taught Marty how to spot a mark and then find each mark's hot button. By the time Marty hit his second year as a cop, he and Cy were both liberally supplementing their policeman's pay, courtesy of the criminals they were supposed to be apprehending, but only did when that criminal lacked the financial means to keep his or herself out of the legal system.

Being partnered with Cy Kelly opened up a whole world for Marty, rife with life lessons and possibilities. All of which he soaked up like a sponge. Then along came Detective Steven Walton. Assigned to work with the detective during an operation to bust a ring of killer drug dealers, Cy Kelly perceived a golden opportunity for enrichment. Walton being part of the team complicated matters, so, over Marty's unexplainable trepidation, Kelly rolled the dice and decided to offer Steve a chance to become part of their extremely exclusive fraternity. The gamble blew up in Kelly's face. Rather than take advantage of the chance to get paid, Det. Walton reported the graft, exposing Cyrus Kelly as a crooked cop. Through a convoluted series of twists and turns, Marty Willis escaped being scooped up along with Cy, but his reputation and career were forever clouded, thanks to Steve Walton. Years later, after watching Steve rise to the rank of captain while his own chances at advancement stalled and sputtered to a halt, the Russell case prompted the creation of a task force. Every day Marty'd had to swallow his hatred of the man he held responsible for the destruction of Cyrus Kelly and for his own career's pathetic dead end. Here, finally, was the chance to make Walton pay. Marty had to take it. He couldn't, wouldn't pass it up. Not a chance to even the score with the department's golden boy. So he did what he could. Using all the well hidden lessons taught him by Cy Kelly, Marty sabotaged the case where and when he had the opportunity. Colin Russell, his wife and kid were beyond help. But their deaths could still serve a purpose. Subtly, with exquisite patience and timing, Martin Willis turned the active investigation into a frustrating, maddening cold case. Marty crowed with glee inwardly the day Walton retired with the Russell case still open. But the man just wouldn't give up, stubbornly insisting on finding a resolution, on achieving "closure for the victims and their families." This time, Steve Walton had help in the form of an FBI agent. Just one, but it might be enough. Marty couldn't allow that. He owed it to Cy. He owed it to himself. He needed to take care of his Walton problem once and for all. And the fed too, if it came to that. No big deal. Cy been a thorough teacher.


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are still mine, ho hum. The house's past history is written in italics, but you already knew that.**

Chapter 8

"_Ya gotta go all the way up on to the porch and ring the bell. Then ya gotta wait five seconds before ya can run." Those were terms of the dare. Lots of neighborhoods had houses where the scary man or lady lived. Houses the kids would use to test one another's nerve. In Seattle's Green Lake area, 12973 Marshlight Lane carried that title. Every kid over the age of five who live within walking distance of the place had to take the dare. If you didn't, you were a wuss, and nobody else wanted to let you hang around with them. No basketball or football, no jump rope or friends to ride your bike with, no nothing. So, sooner or later, every kid's finger found that doorbell. _

"_Ring, wait, run." Tommy Mitchell, eight years old and newly arrived in Green Lake, swallowed the bowling ball in his throat and fervently hoped his new pals couldn't see his violent trembling in the fading light of early evening. He gulped one last time and faced the house, marching resolutely up the cobblestone driveway, finger prepared to press the dreaded doorbell. Like a man approaching the hangman's noose, he slowly mounted the stones steps. He wanted so badly to run home to the comfort of the family dinner table but didn't dare to turn around. He could feel them all watching him, bikes and skateboards idle, arms crossed like junior sentinels, cutting off his escape route. He was here, on the porch. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, reached his hand out, and pushed…_

* * *

"I promise you honey" Colby reassured Kerri by phone. "I feel a lot better. No headache, no soreness, no nothing. It's all good. I'm one hundred percent ready to get back in the game. I swear."

Granger awakened Saturday morning feeling like a new man. Thirty six hours rest left him fully recharged. While the Lucern mess back in Los Angeles resolved itself at a snail's pace, which Colby learned via his daily report in calls to Don or David, it gave him the opportunity to get back to the Russell mystery.

"I'm on my way to your folks place right now. Thought maybe after breakfast your pop and I could take another pass at that house. Only this time, I'll be ready. Yeah, baby, I promise, I'll be watching my back, my front and every other part of my anatomy. You don't have to sweat it. No injuries this time. You got my word on it. Tell your dad I'm on my way, okay? Thanks. Then, after that, maybe you can give me that tour of Seattle I never got to take. Yeah, I love you too, Bye baby."

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the Walton's drive, surprised to see Steve Walton out front waiting. "Morning, Steve. You know, I think I can find my way into the house by now. No escort necessary." The joke fell flat. Kerri's father gave Granger an odd look, difficult to interpret. "Something wrong?" Colby asked.

"No, yeah, look we need to talk before you go in. There's something I need to tell you. Something I should told you before. I'd rather Kerri and her mother not hear if you don't mind" Steve said.

"Okay" Colby said, cautiously. Between CID and the FBI, Granger'd heard a lot of confessions in eight plus years. Kerri's dad had all the signs. He braced himself.

"The…guy you saw and chased the other day at the Russell house…I've seen him myself. I've even chased him before. I, uh, I sort of knew he might show up when we were there. I should've said something, given you some kind of heads up. Sorry."

"Come again?" Colby sputtered. "You've seen this dude, you knew about him, that'd he'd be there, and you didn't tell me? You let me go in there blind, knowing this guy could be in there waiting, and you didn't say anything! Steve, you were a cop! You don't keep stuff like that from your partner! I shouldn't have to tell you that!" He tried to rein in his temper. Father of the woman you love, Granger, remember?

"You're right" Steve admitted, watching traffic on the street, not looking Colby in the eye. "I should've warned you. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"Why didn't you?!" Colby asked him, irritation giving way to curiosity. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't want to look stupid. I start telling you some wild tale about a phantom bugaboo…I thought maybe you'd figure I had too much time on my hands. I needed you to take me seriously. To take the walk thru seriously, and I was afraid you wouldn't if I told you about him." Steve still appeared uncomfortable by his admission.

Colby took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. "Yup, well, I, uh, I guess I can understand that. I suppose it would sound kind of, uh…"

"Bonkers? Crazy? Like maybe Jane should schedule a visit for me to see the neurologist?" Steve supplied dryly.

"Well, yeah, something like that." Colby answered with a rueful grin. "I gotta admit, if you'd told me beforehand, I probably would've looked at you a little cockeyed. Um, as long as we're doing full disclosure here, is there anything else I should know? About him? About the house? You've been on this for a while. What else should I be hearing about? You must've compiled a ton of material by now."

"A ton is fairly close. Jane has threatened me with a bonfire more than once. Come on in the house. We can go thru it before we leave."

From the corner of his eye, Colby saw Kerri and her mother scatter from the window, and smothered a smile. While they walked, Steve started giving Granger some of the history of 12973 Marshlight Lane.

* * *

_Ada Cummings scowled as the door chimed. They were at it again, the wicked little beasts. Their parents were useless, too preoccupied with scrounging about for money and status to mind their brats. Ada pursed her lips tightly. That would never be the case in __**this**__ house. Not as long as she held breath in her body. Ada believed in absolute control in all aspects of one's life. Only the weak allowed it to be otherwise. She reached out to stroke the back of her son's head with one hand. A good boy, her Avery. Nothing like the grubby spawn who thought tormenting her made them brave. She smiled with frosty satisfaction as she studied her child. _

_Avery didn't mingle with the other children. Superior to them in every way, his mother intended to make certain he never became contaminated by superficial values and inferior thinking. She even home schooled him, just to be sure. The quality of education available in the surrounding schools made her shudder with revulsion. Her boy would never come straggling in at the end of a school day, dirty and empty-headed, filled with germs and disease like those wretched little creatures who now ran from her property shrieking with crude laughter. Discipline, strength, discernment and control. The knowledge that other people bore watching at all times. That wickedness abounded in every human being on the planet and constant vigilance was needed lest you be overtaken by it. These were all lessons Ada poured into her son on a daily basis, along with the advance mathematics, languages, and scientific subjects she insisted he learn from an early age. _

_No excuses were permitted. Ever. Lessons were to be learned completely and assignments submitted in a timely manner. Daily drills and recitations were mandatory. Any failure to comply with household dictates or restrictions met with severe punishment. As did any display of weakness on Avery's part. When Ada's husband died driving drunk, leaving her with a two million dollar life insurance payout and the monumental task of raising the child on her own, she had determined then and there to succeed beyond anyone's expectations. Her son would be a man someday, and if she were going to raise a man, above all else he would need to be strong enough to face the world that had taken his father from him._

"_Wash up for dinner. Tonight, I'll expect you capable of reciting Book I of Homer's Iliad before the meal." Ada stroked his hair once more and walked into the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear Avery clearing away the clutter of lessons. She knew he would do an excellent job and no trace of the day's efforts would remain. A good boy her Avery, a very good boy. _

_Schooling completed, Avery obsessively straightened up, turning his classroom back into the family dining area. Not a spec marred the snowy expanse of the tablecloth revealed as he pulled back the protective plastic cover. Kneeling until he was eye level with the table top, he carefully inspected it for any imperfections. No, nothing. Everything was spotless and perfectly strai---. Wait, was that a crease, a wrinkle? He reached out with trembling fingers. No, only a thread. Painstakingly, he removed it, passing his hand over the surface to make certain. Once that task was accomplished, he hurried to go upstairs to wash thoroughly as he'd been instructed. Mother always checked before his recitation. She must find everything to her satisfaction. On his way past the windows in the living room, with their leaded stained glass upper portions, Avery slowed. Checking to make sure mother was busy putting the finishing touches on another perfect meal, he stopped, peering out onto the street. They were all still there, at the end of the block, ruffling the hair and patting the back of a boy he did not recognize. Looking back as a group at the house, he saw the children laugh and point as they realized they were being observed. Their parents had long since given up coercing the kids to trudge to the door of 12973 Marshlight and ask if the boy who lived there could come out and play. The answer was always no. Avery longed to join them. To know how it felt to ride a bike or skateboard. To skin a knee playing football or baseball. They always looked like they were having so much fun. He knew mother would never allow it, but he desperately wished for it anyway. At the same time, he was beginning to hate them, all of them. _

_He shook himself out of his reverie. Dinner would be on the table in precisely fifteen minutes. Not one second more or less. Mother must not see him staring out of the window, daydreaming. The last time she caught him doing it he'd been harshly chastised. The pain and darkness had lasted for hours that time. Avery rushed up the stairs, frantically summoning the opening lines of Homer's epic poem from his memory._

* * *

"What did dad want to talk to you about?" Kerri asked Colby they climbed into his leased Durango. About to get his much delayed tour of the city of Seattle underway, Granger fought down his amusement at his girlfriend's intense curiosity. All thru dinner and desert, he could tell she itched to burst out with questions about the topic of conversation between him and her father. Both she and Jane's more or less polite inquiries once Steve and Colby reached the house earlier that day had been smoothly brushed aside with "it was nothing much. No big deal. Can't two guys just have a talk without it being about something?" Steve's innocent act fooled neither his wife or his daughter for one split second. But, having known him for much longer than Colby, they both realized trying to get him to talk if he did not wish to would be impossible. For his part, Granger understood that it could cause problems for Steve should Kerri or Jane learn about the Russell house's unusual "tenant" and that Kerri's dad had failed to warn Colby what to expect. He liked Steve Walton and had no desire to make trouble for him. Keeping his mouth shut about the driveway revelations seemed the best way to go, so he followed Steve's lead.

The former homicide detective and the FBI agent had indeed revisited the house but it turned into a waste of time. Uneventful too, although that may not have been altogether a bad thing, thought Colby. Not only **didn't **Raggedy Andy put in another appearance, but to Steve's taciturn distaste, Colby observed Det. Marty Willis parked down the block from the house, watching as he and Walton emerged. Driving past Willis's car without comment, Steve stared straight ahead, missing the cop's dour look. Granger caught it. Detective Willis, he felt in his bones, was liable to become a major inconvenience before it was all over.

"Baby, I told you" Colby teased lightly as Kerri directed him through the streets of her hometown. "It's no big deal. Just a couple of guys shootin' the breeze. If it'll make you feel better, make something up. Say we talked about sports, or vehicles, or, hey I got a good one, lawn care. You know how we men are when it comes to our lawns." Stopped at a red light, he pulled her over for a light kiss, stifling her budding protests.

"That's it? That's all I get? A reworked version of 'don't worry your pretty little head about it!? Colby Granger…" Kerri's voice held a note of not entirely good natured warning. The light changed and the minivan behind them honked irritably.

Colby grinned toothily. "Where to next honey? The Space Needle was very interesting. What else you got for me?" They drove on, Kerri unable to stay miffed. The temperate climate gave Granger a chance to see a lot of the city. After checking out the coffee scene at Colby's insistence, and grabbing a nightcap in one of Kerri's favorite haunts, they headed back to his hotel.

* * *

Henry and Lucy Daniels, in Seattle visiting their daughter Louise, her husband Roland and most important, their four grandchildren, refused to own the designation of "elderly." Their daughter and son-in-law happily deposited them at the Capstone Hotel that night, thinking mom and dad were on their way to bed. Not so. Waiting until the coast was clear, Henry and Lucy picked a likely place for a late night good time and headed out. Patiently they called for the tenth floor elevator, smiling in anticipation of sampling Seattle's after hour's hot spots.

"Ding!" The bell sounded with refined precision, giving notice of the car's arrival and the Daniel's took their places in front of the opening doors. As they swooshed apart the 60 years married pair got a heaping helping of hot spot they'd not anticipated.

The young couple entwined in one another's arms were oblivious to the audience. The kiss Henry and Lucy witnessed put them in mind of their long ago honeymoon. Tender and fiery at the same time, Henry thought it a fine example of modern romance. With a measure of regret, he cleared his throat.

Springing apart the slender charcoal haired young lady and her broad shouldered Romeo colored at realizing they had company. Moving aside self-consciously, the lovers stepped out, excusing themselves. Holding hands, they moved down the hotel's hallway. Looking back, the young man grinned at Henry Daniel's enthusiastic thumbs up and wink.

"What are you smiling about?" Kerri chided as Colby opened the door and ushered her inside.

"Oh, just acknowledging some, uh, well wishes." He smirked wickedly, inching her backwards, both removing clothing as they went. Totally unclothed, landing in the center of the queen-sized bed, satin undies joining the remainder of her garments on the floor, Kerri moaned as Colby's weight pressed her deeper into the costly linens. She caught his hand as he stroked the heated area between her thighs. Her eyes shimmered as she slid slowly out from under his body rolling him onto his back. She straddled him, her French manicured nails working down his muscular torso with exquisite delicacy. Starting at his mouth, she kissed her way south, feeling how ready he was for her as she traced a delicate half circle around him with one scalloped fingertip. Scooping him into both hands, Kerri arched her back as she opened herself wider.

Seattle's guidebooks, printed and online, listed the Capstone Hotel with four stars. Its thick walls were considered excellent in the sound dampening department. The occupants of one room were, therefore protected from the goings on in another. The management of the Capstone appreciated that fact never more so than tonight.

* * *

Barry Bailey slithered into Phil's one hour before closing. Watching Barry settle his grimy carcass into the corner booth, the lone remaining waitress, Andie Dearing rolled her eyes and sighed. She recognized Barry as a frequent patron. He was cheap, annoying and smelly. And the little creep kept trying get into her pants. No matter how many times she told him she already had a boyfriend, a big, football playing, jealous boyfriend, he wouldn't stop. She could blow him off in the rudest ways possible and he'd just come back for more. Bringing with him the aroma of cabbage, garlic and ripe garbage. Also, a card carrying cheapskate, Barry never left a tip. Andie was working her way thru college with this gig. She needed every extra cent she could get her hands on. She'd see nothing from Barry. Nada. Zilcho. She could see Phil Titus, her boss eyeing her from the kitchen. Motioning with his head in Barry's direction, Phil glared at Andie, his unspoken message "the guy's a customer. Now get your skinny college girl tushy over there and take his order. " Hating every step, Andie forced her feet in Barry's direction, breathing thru her mouth.

Aware of Phil's continued scrutiny, Andie plastered an impassive look on her face. "What can I get for you tonight, sir?" she asked in her best semi-professional style.

"How's about your digits, sweet buns?" Barry oozed in a pitiful attempt at flirtation. He threw back his greasy head, laughing at her discomfort.

"I meant to eat!" she hissed between clinched teeth. Andie knew short of physical contact she was on her own. To Phil, the customer, or more precisely, the customer's green, was sacred. No way was the grumpy owner/manager coming to her aid.

"Aw, come on now, hot stuff, don't be like that! Tell ya what, bring me a cup of coffee and a club sandwich."

Andie shuddered and bolted, feeling Barry's eye's on her behind as she walked away.

Practically throwing the sandwich and scalding brown liquid at the repulsive man once it was ready, she fled back to the oasis of the lunch counter.

Barry had just picked up the sandwich in both filthy hands, and mouth expanded to its limit, was about to take the first bite when a blaring car horn interrupted him. Glancing out of the eatery's large plate glass window, the skinny, dirty fellow paled. Dropping the food onto his plate, he scrambled for the few dollars needed to pay the check and scurried out, without leaving a tip, of course.

Andie, relived at his leaving, thought it was kinda weird the way Barry hesitated at the door of the diner before exiting. Mopping his suddenly sweaty forehead with a napkin, Bailey looked nervously at his reluctant server.

"Well, luscious, looks like that phone number's gonna have to wait."

"If I didn't know better I'd swear the little cockroach's about to pee himself" she considered, surprised. Not that she cared.

The horn honked again, more insistent. Biting his lower lip and drawing himself up to his unimpressive full height of five feet, three inches, Barry pushed open the swinging door and left.

Wanting to know what could cause her nettlesome nemesis such distress, Andie skipped to the doorway before it closed, in time to see Barry get in on the passenger side of a large dark sedan. She couldn't see the driver very well, but it looked like a man. Bailey barely got the door closed when the car screeched off, turning the corner, soon out of sight.

"Too bad I'll never know who you are mister," Andie sent a shout out to the driver. "Like to send you a thank you card." She locked the door and went to help Phil close for the night.

* * *

Colby stretched lazily, peering thru one marginally cracked eyelid at the sliver of sunlight valiantly trying to get past the voluminous drapes. His contented, relaxed movement awakened Kerri, her head on his shoulder.

Refusing to allow morning a firm foothold as of yet, she kissed the area just below his ear, and rested her head on his chest again.

"Good morning" she murmured, torn between desire for him and slipping back into slumber.

"Back at ya" Colby returned, enjoying the feel of her down the length of his body. He bathed his face in her wealth of hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the exotic shampoo she used. She would never tell him what the mixture consisted of, insisting on keeping it a secret. He longed to awaken her further, but elected not to. Maybe later, properly.

As sleep was beginning to reclaim him too, the phone rang, jarring both he and Kerri wide awake. Not having any idea who it could be, he wanted to ignore the rude device, but reached over and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello" he croaked, devoutly hoping for a wrong number so he could go back to sleep.

"Colby?! Colby it's Jane. I need to talk to Kerri! Right now! It's urgent! Please!" Jane Walton blurted without preamble.

"Jane, what is it!? What's wrong?" Colby asked.

"Please, please, I need to speak with Kerri, right now, _please!"_

"Okay, okay, here she is" He gave the phone to Kerri. "It's your mom. She sounds really upset."

"Mom, what is it? What's wrong, what?" Kerri questioned

"Kerri, I need you and Colby to come down to King County jail" Jane told her daughter, voice cracking from the stress. "It's your father. He's been arrested for assault! They're saying he tried to kill someone!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are mine. Yawn**

Chapter 9

"Whatever you've already said, stop saying it." Kerri advised her father, striding into the interrogation room authoritatively.

"Who are you?" Det. Sam Tiller demanded, eyeballing Kerri hostilely.

"I'm Mr. Walton's attorney, and this interview is over. I hope you're not under the impression that this 'discussion' will be admissible in court. Let me assure you right now, it won't be." She had her game face on. "I'd like to confer with my client now. Goodbye detective." Turning her back on the cop, she pulled out a chair opposite her jail jumpsuit attired parent.

Rankled at Kerri's icy dismissal, Tiller stomped to the door, slamming it behind him as he exited.

"You're not my attorney" Steve Walton greeted his only child.

" I am now. Mom hired me about an hour ago. I'm not doing anything else with that expensive law degree you paid for right now anyway. Are you ok dad?" Kerri asked, shedding her lawyer persona once she and Steve were alone.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine. Don't worry, I'm okay. I haven't told them anything. Mainly because there's nothing to tell. Plus, I know enough to keep my mouth shut." Steve ran a hand thru his mostly silver hair."Kerri, this whole thing is insane! I detest that slug Bailey, but I never laid a hand on him, I swear!"

"Dad" Kerri silenced her father warningly, glancing cynically at the two way interrogation room mirror. Their conversation was, ostensibly, confidential. Ideally, the police weren't _supposed_ to be listening in. But some cops, she knew, were masters at 'accidentally' leaning on the intercom switch. "Just keep cool. Mom and Colby have gone to arrange for bail. You'll be out of here soon enough. Don't freak out on me, huh?"

"Exactly how are you planning on getting me released on a Sunday? The courts are closed. I'm probably going to be spending the night at least" Steve said with a grimace.

"You, oh my father, are in luck. One of my former teachers is on the bench now. I called him up. You oughta be seeing the back side of this place shortly. But dad, no more field trips to the Russell house until we get you out this pot of boiling water. You're movements are going to be restricted."

"But, Kerri honey-" Steve began.

Kerri cut him off. "In case you haven't realized it, you're in seriously deep do-do Pops." Kerri used her childhood form of address for her father. "And until we can figure out you got here, you have to let everything else go. You understand that, right? Right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Steve replied heavily. "I don't have to like it, but I got it" Walton stared at the table, thinking hard. He needed to talk to Colby ASAP.

* * *

"Steve, I need to know everything that went on after Kerri and I left last night" Colby demanded as they drove away from the jail. "Don't leave anything out, okay, no matter how small."

"Nothing went on, Colby. After you two left to see the sights, I started thinking more about the house's background. So I got the file and laid everything out again. I was standing there staring at it when the phone rang. The caller refused to talk to Jane except to ask for me. That's all he'd say. He wanted to meet me down by the Shaunessy Home." Steven named one of Seattle's historic tourist attractions. "Said he had information about the Russell homicides that they'd been holding onto for a long time, something I really wanted to know. I didn't believe it at first. I mean, after all this time… But then, he gave some details having to do with the investigation that were never released to the public. I had to find out if they were for real. So, I went. I parked and got out and waited where they'd said to. And waited, and waited. After about an hour, I decided this guy…"

"You're sure you're dealing with a man and just one guy? You're sure about that?" Colby questioned.

"Yes, that I'm absolutely certain of" Steve told him. "The voice on the phone was male, and nervous." Steve replied. "After about an hour, I figured I was getting my chain yanked, so I headed for my car. Before I could get there, I, uh…well I..." Steve's narrative tapered off as he cast an uneasy look in the direction of his wife.

"Don't stop now" Colby prodded, not seeing the look as he concentrated on his driving and the traffic in this unfamiliar city.

"As I got back to the car, I, uh, well, sensed somebody coming up behind me. You know, that cop feeling that you're not alone. I thought maybe my mystery informant finally worked up the nerve to crawl out of the woodwork, so I started walking back to the rendezvous point, and…" Steve stopped again.

"And…" Colby poked him again, "Come on, Steve. Don't make me pull this car over" he nudged verbally.

"I, uh, I passed an alley. That feeling got stronger. I turned but not soon enough. I caught a pretty good conk on the head and went down. I think I was out for only a few minutes, but it was long enough. When I came to, I was inside…someplace. There wasn't any light, so I couldn't really tell. Anyway I__"

"Wait a minute, hold it! Back up! You got hit over the head!?" This from Jane, very agitated.

"Honey, it's nothing. I'm fine, really!" Walton rushed to reassure his spouse.

"Don't you 'honey it's nothing' me! You got hit over the head, you idiot! You were unconscious! You could have a concussion! There could be any number of things going on in there! You need to be seen by a doctor, Steven. Why do I have the feeling this is the first anyone's heard about this!"

She'd called him Steven. Might be a good idea to move things along. "Look, I do not need treatment! What I need is to find out who set me up for an assault I didn't commit and why! _That's_ what I need! Kerri, talk some sense into your mother!" Steve tried to recruit their daughter to his position.

"Oh no you don't" Kerri refused to cooperate. "I'm with her! Colby, baby, we need to make a detour to the ER."

"Absolutely not" Steve set his jaw stubbornly. "I told you, I'm not going to the hospital. I don't need to! Colby, take me home! No doctors!"

"Don't look at me, pal." Granger surveyed the other man in the Durango's rearview. "I agree with your family. Take it from somebody who's had his fair share of clonks on the old brain box. We're not taking any chances. Which way baby?" he asked Kerri.

Steve fumed. "Et tu, Colby?" he said to Colby, sounding wounded.

Enjoying himself tremendously, Granger answered. "As I recall, you were my chauffer the other day when I needed _my_ head examined. Now hear this, Captain Walton. You will go to the hospital, and you will go in and you will behave yourself while the docs check you out. Is that clear? You **don't** want to make me carry you in, now do you?" Totally unfazed by the elder's pugnacious attitude, he patiently waited.

"Alright, fine" Walton finally snapped, resigned.

"Look at it this way" Colby consoled, grinning. "You can finish giving me the low down your fashion switch to jailhouse couture."

* * *

Probably the worst patient ever, Steve Walton was poked, prodded and tested before being released with a clean bill of health from the skilled medical professionals at Mt. Sinai Hospital. The examination gave him a chance to explain the impressive collection of scratches and bruises and ripped, blood spotted clothing he sported along with the goose egg on the back of his head.

"…I had to force my way out of wherever I was. I had to shoulder my way out, it was dark, and there a lot of empty crates and junk in the way. Some broken glass I guess. I couldn't see…of course I collected a few bruises and scrapes. But that's how I got them, not from beating Barry Bailey half to death!"

"Steve, they found the guy in a crumpled heap in the alley, not twenty feet from your car and you stumbling around glass eyed. That's gonna be hard to explain " Colby told him plainly. "Not to mention his blood all over your clothes."

"Colby, it sounds like you think---" Steve began indignantly.

"Wait a minute, let me finish" Colby soothed. "I know you didn't pound this dude, but somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it look like you did. Let's start with that. Why him? And why you? There's gotta be a reason for that.

Steve explained. "Bailey CI'd on a case I worked with my old partner, Parker Welles. Motorcycle gang . Bunch of one percenters white slaving teenage girls into Canada. They were kidnapping the girls off the streets and forcing them to mule dope back and forth across the border. Once they outlived their usefulness on their backs or for trafficking, they were killed. One of the girls had a mom, Eileen Karnes, who didn't want to wait for the cops to find her daughter. She came to us, offered to work from the inside. We refused, told her to go home, let us handle it. We thought she would, but she went on her own. We only found out she'd gone thru with it when we she started feeding us intel. Bailey was Parker's snitch but I never trusted him. He works an angle a little too well, ya know? Not just for our side. He informed on the criminals to the cops, but he wasn't above moving in the other direction. I think he found out about Karnes. Maybe he figured to get over by telling the bikers about her, maybe he didn't like the competition. I don't know. What I do know is that Eileen Karnes nude body was found burned beyond recognition in a field before it was all over. She'd been tortured first. Coroner said it was probably real slow. I could never prove Bailey was the one who gave her up, but I don't have any doubts. I said so, publicly. More than once. One time I even lost my temper and took a poke at the dirty little scumbag after he temporarily grew a pair and got in my face. After that, Parker stopped using him and he pretty much stayed out of my way, but I never forgot."

"Apparently, you're not the only one with a long memory" Colby said. "Whoever nailed Barry knows about the bad blood. They're no fan of yours and it looks like they want you out of the way. That fit anybody you can think of right at the moment?" Granger asked pointedly.

Monitoring the conversation from the shotgun seat, as they pulled into her parent's driveway, Kerri questioned her dad as the four of them went inside.

"Would Willis go this far? You think he'd do something like this?"

Steve snorted bitterly. "Yes, he would. With no problem at all." He pounded an innocent wall in frustration. "What I can't work out is why he cares so much. I mean, he and I, we've never had much use for each other but to go to this length? He's a cop! Why wouldn't he want the Russell case closed? Why's he so invested spiking my wheel that he would do this? Huh?" Walton shook his head, uncomprehending.

"I don't know" Colby answered, "but for now, you're in check. Especially with your alleged victim in ICU, swearing to anyone who'll listen that you're the one who put the hurt on him. We have to deal with that."

"Oh, no. No, Colby, listen to me, please. I need to you to promise me you'll stay with the Russell's. Please, come on" Steve pressed on. He'd waited a long time for another ally in his quest to find justice for Colin Russell and his family. Since Parker Welles death from cancer four years ago. Finally, he had help, and he couldn't lose it now.

"Dad___" Kerri began

"Steve___" Jane started at the same time.

"No, this time we do it my way. This is too important. I, we, can deal with the situation with Bailey somehow. I need you to promise me you won't let the Russell thing go, Colby. _Please!_"

Finding himself the focus of all three Walton's intense attention made Granger acutely uncomfortable, but he couldn't refuse Steve's impassioned argument.

"Alright, Steve, you win. I stay with the Russell's, for now."

He turned to the upset Kerri and her mother. "You have to trust me." He included Jane in the statement. "This can all work out. But you both have to trust me. Him too" Granger said, inclining his head in Steve's direction.

"Strangely enough, although I've known you less than a week, I do," Jane replied. Nodding her head calmly, she gathered herself. "Come on, kiddo." Wrapping her arms around Kerri's shoulders, she pulled her towards the kitchen. "It's be a long spell without a meal. Let's get in there and see what we can come up with"

"Steve, you and I need to hit the dining room table. You're going to give me some more background on that house." Colby made an 'after you' gesture in the direction of the dining room.

"Why's the house's provenance so important?" Steve was a little baffled.

"The place has a resident Houdini, remember? And as good as he is, he's no ghost. He's getting in and out of there somehow. Which means he knows the place a lot better than you and me. I have the feeling he can answer a lot of questions. So, I think we should get to it" Colby opened a three inch file, gruesome crime scene photos on top.

"Well" Steve Walton told him, "before Colin and Amy bough it, the place had at least one other long time owner, A widow named Ada Cummings and her son, Avery…"

* * *

…_He buried his victim with the others, its final resting place amongst its own kind having been meticulously prepared. After all, he bore the dead no grudge. One might even say he held them in a certain high regard. Their offering of themselves to him over the years, their sacrifice, gave them a unique status in his eyes. Almost that of martyrs. He felt a kinship with them. A moment more of respectful meditation, and then he turned to go into the house. _

_Working efficiently, Avery carefully composed the dinner tray, arranging the items just so before mounting the stairs to his mother's room. Bedridden for more than a year now, she still held to her exacting standards. A series of strokes over the last ten years devastated her body, leaving her keen mind imprisoned within. Unable any longer to lift her head more than a few inches from her pillow, and quite unable to feed herself, Ada Cummings was totally dependent on her nineteen year old son. That did not trouble her. Thru years of harsh, sometimes cruel but necessary training, she'd molded him well. Her near total isolation of him from other people paid dividends. He never disappointed._

_With the care one might use in tending to an infant, Avery gently spooned the cooled broth past his mother's thin lips. He fed her slowly, verifying that each portion of the soup had been swallowed before attempting another. Next came her tea, in her favorite china cup, served at the correct temperature. Finally, applesauce, for dessert. Her sense of taste deadened, Ada could not know of the extra dose of medication contained within the unsweetened fruity concoction. Avery folded it into her meal every night, insuring that his own forays into the darkness would continue uninterrupted by anything that she might need. Checking to make sure she was comfortably and soundly asleep, he made ready for his 'rounds.' _

_He wore dark clothing soft, soundless, crepe-soled shoes. He checked his bag. Silver duct tape glinted dully in the moonlight, caught by the faint reaching of the one remaining light coming from the kitchen. He could see his breath in the chill of the November air. Avery inventoried the bags remaining contents. Rope, knife, a separate smaller container for his anticipated 'treasures.' Yes, everything thing was in readiness. If all went well, his kindred would increase by one this night…_

* * *

When Colby was ten years old and stuck in bed with a broken leg, watching Gary Cooper's lone, brave hero face down the bad guys in "High Noon" left a huge imprint on his young life. Marshall Will Kane's ultimate triumph in the face of menace left the prepubescent boy with two indelible impressions. The first being the inspiration to someday become an FBI agent. The second was the importance of being surrounded by a team. Witnessing the townspeople's abandonment of their reluctant but undaunted protector made the childish Granger seethe. From that time on, he appreciated the value of teamwork. Of having someone you could trust watching your back. He keenly noticed that lack now. Probing the exterior of 12973 Marshlight Lane, his desire to have David, Don, Liz or even Nikki alongside him in the hunt for answers was almost palpable. Doing this alone was probably fairly stupid, but his choice had pretty much been made for him. Kerri's former law professor turned judge granter her father bail, but limited Steve Walton to home detention. Colby's little side trip to the local FBI office to solicit help turned into an embarrassing boondoggle. Not only did they refuse any assistance, but they snidely informed him that unlike the L.A. field office, "here in Seattle, the F.B.I. has more than enough to do without inserting ourselves into a long cold localized murder case." Especially, the agents stressed, since they hadn't been invited in by Seattle PD. He was 'encouraged' to drop the matter and go back to Los Angeles, where he belonged, and ushered out the door without fanfare. Colby already knew where he stood with the Seattle police.

Still, it wasn't only his promise to Steve that brought him back here. Just like Will Kane, once he engaged, Colby Granger found it well nigh impossible to let go until the problem facing him cried uncle. He parked several houses away. No sense in tipping his hand.

Unlike Steve, who dismissed Avery Cummings, not seen for many years in Seattle, as a possible candidate for the role of Raggedy Andy, Granger thought Mrs. Cummings only progeny was a pretty good pick. By all accounts a scrawny, timid loner, few people would know the house better, especially how to get in and out, and where to hide, without being seen. Nobody knew for sure if Avery was really gone. And his unorthodox upbringing, in Granger's admittedly amateur psychological opinion, made him look pretty good to be kind of off mentally adjusted wise too. If he'd gotten bigger, well, a guy could bulk up. "I did" Colby remembered. "Probably in there waiting on me, aren't ya. And not by yourself, either. You and your grabby little playmate took the first round. Next one's mine."

He circled around to the backyard, picked a likely spot behind some trees on the edge of the property, made himself as invisible as possible, and settled down to wait. The next time he and Andy, actually Avery, he supposed, met, it would be on Granger's terms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are mine, blah blah, yak,yak, and so on. **

Chapter 10

"I'm gonna get fired, I'm gonna get fired, I am going to get fired!" Nikki Bentacourt groaned under her breath, "I should turn around and get out of here! Go call Ian and spend the night over a plate of veal saltimbocca and a bottle of imported Italian red. Low lights, soft music, do some sexy reconnecting. So why" she asked herself irritably, "am I still doing this? I don't have to. I can go the other way right now, hit the 101and forget this crazy notion ever popped into my head. Nobody has to know I even thought about coming here. Especially Don."

But, she couldn't, not really. Turn around and leave, that is. It had taken Nikki a while to work out her fit on Don Eppes team. In addition to the usual dumb rookie mistakes she was expected to make, there was the whole personality thing to deal with. The street smart, east L.A. raised Nikki grew up using her prickly hostility as both protection and a type of early warning system. It served her well. Kept her from having to suffer a lot of fools. She'd had to modify her style some after joining LAPD. Then again after graduating from Quantico. It hadn't been easy. Truth to tell, she still had the occasional rough spot, but mostly, things were much smoother.

Liz Warner had been the easiest. The only other female member of the team, she seemed most willing to cut the nervous Nikki some slack, and look over it when the newest team member shot herself in the foot. Don was much more difficult. Experienced and very good at what he did, he left her with a sense of constantly being evaluated and falling short. Nikki soon learned that her new boss was considered by some to be the best agent in the Los Angeles field office. David Sinclair, only minutely less intimidating than Don also made her feel like she had to prove herself on a daily basis. She forced herself to buckle down and earn their respect.

The most difficult member of the team for Nikki to figure out was Colby Granger. The Idaho native was a constant puzzle to her. No matter how hard she tried, Bentancourt couldn't pigeonhole the ex-Army Ranger. In his own way, Colby was as adept at hiding his true self from others as she. The privileged few got to know the real Granger. Everybody else only got to look thru the window. Nikki had always hated window shopping. She might have taken the 'let's see if you've really got what it takes' challenge in Colby's green eyes a trifle too personally. She resented having to work for his trust, to have to earn being considered good enough to watch his back. He'd been arrested for treason by his own team, so what right did he have to judge her?! He had his own trust issues and a lot of nerve, as far as she was concerned. Joining the team and getting more of the inside story about the Chinese spy deal, the freighter and the rest, handed Nikki a conundrum. Granger was a traitor who not only was not a traitor, but actually a hero. What was she supposed to do with that? Irrationally irritated by the whole situation, she decided the best defense was a good offense. Instead of working to earn _his_ trust, she would make him earn _hers._ How dare he refuse to cooperate by reacting the way she wanted him to! The more skeptical mistrust she directed at him, the easier he shrugged it off. Her peevish swipe at his integrity during the team's second encounter with disgraced agent Roger Bloom was a byproduct of that, she guessed. She'd gotten a rise out of him that time, at last. Not a big one, but a rise. Immediately she felt smaller for it. It was a queasy kind of feeling, not to her liking. To get out from under it she decided to grow some. She wasn't winning the game anyway, so she gave it up. The strategy worked. She and Colby were never going to be best friends, but at least they'd stopped circling each other like two prizefighters looking for an opening. If Jack Lucern, a man Colby had ample reason to hate, hadn't been murdered, the working relationship between her and Granger might have continued to improve. But Lucern _had_ gotten unnaturally dead, and however undeserved, Colby Granger was one of the people suspected of being responsible. Involuntarily, Nikki's former attitudes wormed their way back into her head, and Colby knew it. She couldn't hide it from him. Not that she'd tried very hard to do so. Bing, bang, boom. Just like that she was at arm's length again. Surprised to discover she did not want it that way, she had to do something about it. Nikki didn't want to get personal with Colby, or be in his fan club or anything like that, but she didn't want them to be enemies either.

So, here she was, at the MDC, preparing to risk getting kicked out of the Bureau and possibly mangle a good part of her future, to help clear him. She sucked in a big breath, squared her shoulders and proceeded up the steps. If she was going to strangle her FBI career in its infancy, she might as well woman up and get moving.

* * *

Armored against the approaching night's chill by a couple of layers of warm clothing, Colby watched the sun slowly sinking below the horizon with satisfaction. Dusk was the perfect time for sneaking around. Better than true night. It turned everything to an indistinct grey and blurred one object into another. That's exactly the way he wanted it. "Knock, knock" he thought, smiling coldly. "Here I come."

* * *

"Mr. Bailey, my name is Kerri Walton. I represent the man you've falsely accused of assaulting you." She'd appeared without warning in Barry Bailey's hospital room. With no one in the second bed, they had complete privacy.

"I ain't lied!" Barry protested shrilly. "Walton did this to me! He, he, he tried to kill__"

Kerri cut the weasel faced man off before he could gain any traction. "Shut up! You're lying and we both know it! I strongly suggest you stop doing it and give me the truth! I'm a federal prosecutor, Mr. Bailey" (a suspended one, but that was none of Barry's business). "Believe me when I tell you that lying in the course of a criminal investigation is a very, very bad idea. Take some good advice. Tell the truth before you get in too deep to dog paddle your way out!"

With long, dark curly hair, flashing green eyes and a lip licking figure, this Walton broad was a real looker. Ordinarily, Barry, who thought of himself as a lover, would've already made his move on a woman of this caliber. She put a hand on the bed railing and leaned closer, putting him within reach of those gorgeous knockers. He stifled the powerful desire to reach out and touch. Having the docs surgically remove his ripped off arm from where the sun don't shine sounded painful.

Snapping her fingers in his face, Kerri pulled Barry's vision back up to her face. "You've already lied to the police. Keep lying to me and I will personally see you do every minute of the time that comes with it."

"But, but, but…I, I can't…I, I, wait, you, you said your name is Walton? That's the same as ____"

"Yes, correct. He's my father. You know what that means, Barry? It means I have extra incentive to make you tell me who actually did this to you!"

"I, I, I don't have to talk to you! I want my lawyer! He should be here! You're not supposed to talk to me without my lawyer present!" This chick had gone from hot to scary.

"You're not under arrest, Mr. Bailey! Not yet, anyway" Kerri answered, lowering her voice ominously. If you want your attorney here for our little informal chat, go ahead and call him. I'll wait. But you should know something. The more of my time you waste, the more PMS I'm going to get! I'm already about at a five right now. Do you really want to find out what happens when I hit ten Barry? Do ya _really_!? Huh!?"

Barry cringed, drawing the blankets up to his chin, swallowing hard.

* * *

The normal night sounds filtered in, combined with the creaks and groans of the structure above him making peace with the foundation. Colby, with his back quite literally against the wall in a corner of the stygian basement, waited unmoving. His vision now accustomed to the darkness, he could make out vague shapes and angles. He'd been waiting for nearly an hour, breaths coming shallow in the musty, dry air. No home tours necessary this time around. No need to stand in the former dining room, kitchen or bedroom of the victims. All due respect to Steve Walton and his thirty years as a cop, but Granger's gut told him to stick it out here and wait for something to pop. So here he stayed, more or less comfortably perched atop a pile of cloth sacks that had once held, by their smell, some sort of drywall mixture. Not sure how much longer he would be holding up this section of wall, he took another bite of one of the soft energy bars in his pocket. Removed from their crinkly cellophane wrappers and contained in a soft, noiseless cloth, the food calmed hunger pangs and kept his midsection quiet. He'd seen missions compromised by a growling stomach. He couldn't afford to have that happen tonight, given his singular status. Andy/Avery had at least one friend. Colby needed to level the playing field as much as possible. Shouldn't be much longer. Avery and his buddy probably liked the nighttime. They'd be here soon. He'd not even completed the thought when his heightened senses caught both movement and sound in the portion of the room farthest from his position. He watched in utter amazement as a section of wall he would have sworn was solid began to move outward.

* * *

"You, you don't understand. You don't get it!" Barry was in full whine now. "I can't tell you anything, I caaaannnntt!" he sniveled, trying to hide under his blanket.

"Oh, but you can, Mr. Bailey, and you will." Kerri bore in relentlessly on the man. "Because if you don't, I will make your already pathetic life hell on earth! Start telling me what I want to hear! Truth or consequences time, Barry, give it up! Now!" She punctuated her demand by hammering on the railing.

Barry jumped. "You're a fed D.A. You can't do nothing to me! You got no jurisdiction!" Bailey seized on the closest out he could think of, calling on his voluminous hours of devoted TV time. Maybe all them television crime shows could help him out now.

Kerri's eyes narrowed contemptuously. "Yeah, Barry, I'm federal. But guess what? I've got a lot of friends in the King County prosecutor's office. They've got jurisdiction. You want I should get one of 'em to come on down Barry? Should I!? Cause I can, pretty quickly. Hey, wait!" Kerri said, snapping her fingers again. "I've got an even better idea! You've been ratting out your pals to the cops for some time now, haven't you Barry? Been giving up your buddies to keep yourself out of jail, or maybe just for the cash? How's being a rat working for you? Must be a pretty nice payday, huh? I wonder how many of your homeys know they are where they are now courtesy of Barry Bailey? I wonder how many of them would like to discuss it with you, up close and…personal? Whadda say, Barry? Should I give one of my King County D.A. friends a call, see if we can arrange an old home wee, oops, silly me, I meant, old home _week_ reunion for you!? That sounds like a fine idea to me!" Pulling out her phone, Kerri started dialing.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! Don't do that! Please, please, don't do that!" There were certain residents currently in the custody of the King County legal system that Barry definitely did not want to be reunited with, **ever**! "OK, but I want protection! Ya gotta protect me! You see what he did to me! You gotta promise me you ain't gonna let him hurt me no more! Please, please lady, come on!" Barry's weepy, nasally whine hit the upper register.

Kerri didn't let up. Totally without sympathy, she kept up the pressure. "Who Barry!? Give me a name! Give me a name now, Barry, or I hit send!"

"Willis! Det…Detective Marty Willis. He called me up the other night! Made me meet him. I thought he wanted information. Instead he just starts whaling on me! He just kept pounding. Wouldn't even tell me what I did to piss him off! Just kept going! Then when he's done, he says I gotta say it was Walton that did this! That if I don't he's gonna find me and finish the job! I woulda done anything to get him off me! I'm sooorrryy! Please, don't put me in jail! I'll die there if you do! Please, lady!" He grabbed at Kerri's sleeve, which she quickly pulled out of range.

Striding to the door, she opened it to reveal Det. Sgt. Rudy Thomas.

"Did you get all that?" She asked him, throwing a somewhat pityingly glance over her shoulder to the whimpering Bailey.

"Yes, every word" replied Thomas heavily. When Steve Walton's daughter had shown up at his place making her case for a frame up of her old man, Rudy's first instinct was to slam the door in her face. Two things kept him from doing it. She was very convincing, and, unfortunately, Rudy knew his partner. Years of watching Marty operate left Thomas with no illusions. He let her talk him into coming to the hospital, waiting outside Bailey's room while she softened the informant up. All the while hoping she was wrong, and knowing she wasn't. Aware of but not part of Willis's corruption, he'd tried to walk the fine line of loyalty to his partner and ethical behavior as cop. But this, after what he'd just heard, Rudy stared at the floor. He had no choices. None at all.

* * *

Colby observed, astonished, as the wall became a door, allowing first one, then another shadowy figure to emerge into the basement. Meager light seeped thru the opening. Turning his face away to protect his eyesight, he could see enough to discern a size difference. One of his new fellow cellar dwellers was much bigger than the other. In fact, he was about the size of the man Granger had chased down the steps the other day.

"Hello again, dickhead" Colby thought. He hunkered down, hunching his shoulders to prevent his presence from being exposed. Statue still, he saw the pair begin to move. All of a sudden, he found himself on the horns of a dilemma. Did he follow them, or take advantage of their absence to check out the, he couldn't believe he was even thinking this and David was never going to believe it either, _secret_ _passageway_ that spit them out? He'd bet a sizable chunk of his paycheck that the big one was Avery Cummings, indeed all filled out as an adult. The smaller one, name unknown, was the likely ticket puncher for his flight down the steps during his first visit here. As Avery and his mystery date climbed the steps leading to the kitchen, Granger chose. Back in Winchester, he'd always enjoyed exploring hidden spaces and places where few other feet had trod. But sticking with his unwitting companions was more important, at least for the time being. He'd come back here because, like Steve Walton, Colby had become convinced the answers he sought were contained within. Some, possibly all of those answers were now headed upstairs, so he would too. He ascended those steps as quietly as if he were trailing the Taliban. An unexpected squeak or extra noise could be the death of him. He paused on the top step, hovering inside the doorway. The 'suspects' were standing about four feet away, and, apparently, some sort of heated discussion had commenced.

"Please, I don't want to go out there! Please, let me stay here! Please, brother! Please! I'm afraid! Please!"

The words, spoken in an anguished, sobbing whisper, came from the smaller of Colby's subjects. 'Little' guy's distress was so evident even Granger could feel it from his watcher's post.

"Brother, you must be strong. Weakness is always punished by the violators! Haven't I told this over and over? If you allow them to sense your fear, they will destroy you! You must be strong!" 'Big' guy's voice was deep but not harsh. It was as if he were trying not to frighten 'Little.'

'Little' remained unconvinced. "I don't want to go! If I leave here, if I go outside, something bad will happen! They, they will hurt me! Please, I don't want to go! Please, brother! Please!"

"Alright, alright. Very well, shush now! It's alright. You may stay tonight. I'll go alone. I'll return soon. Wait for me here. It's alright." 'Big' soothed his terrified partner, patting his shoulders in what appeared to Colby to be a comforting gesture.

Using the blanket of darkness, 'Big', probably Avery Cummings, went to the kitchen's back door, and, with a final nod at 'Little' exited. He was carrying some sort of bag, but Granger had no way to tell what it contained. 'Little' relieved at being allowed to remain behind, settled into a corner of the kitchen, knees drawn up to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. Left alone, and still frightened, 'Little' alleviated his anxiety by doing something Colby hadn't done since he was a toddler. Rocking back and forth, humming softly, 'Little' was sucking his thumb, resembling nothing so much as an oversized three year old child. He was holding something tightly. Colby couldn't tell what it was. Watching 'Little's" movements, a horrible thought began to occur to the FBI agent. Longing to the depths of his soul to be mistaken, he kept an eye on 'Little' for a minute more, then eased silently back down the steps to the recently revealed passageway to confirm his suspicions. Not an especially religious man, Colby did something he hadn't done in a very long while. He prayed to be wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters are mine. Have to say this a few more times. You never saw anyone who can't afford to get sued more than me.**

Chapter 11

"_Honey, have the boxes with the kitchen stuff made it off the truck yet?" Aimee Russell yelled down to her husband. She was standing in what would become Jeremiah's playroom, surrounded by the paraphernalia of a small boy. The child sized furniture for her son already in place, Aimee directed the movers where to put the half dozen or so boxes marked __**toys **__and __**clothes. **__She heard no answer from Colin, so she went to investigate. __Chased from one hectic moment to another, Aimee gripped the edges of her tattered nerves as tightly as she could. Moving day was rough enough without losing her temper in front of the movers. She maneuvered past a large box magic marker tagged __**master bath/bedroom**__ being carried up as she went in search of Colin. _

_She found him in his future home office, screwdriver in hand, happily reassembling a computer desk. With his back to the door, the preoccupied Colin never realized his wife was in the room until Aimee cleared her throat, exasperated. _

"_Honestly, Colin. Can't that wait? We still have a truck and a half of stuff to get inside and unpacked. Please tell me you weren't planning on letting me and the movers do it all!" She tried not to sound angry, but some attitude crept in anyway._

_Colin straightened, counting slowly to ten before turning around to answer Aimee. "Think before you speak, don't react so quickly, and when you do, try not to react negatively." The counselor he and Aimee were seeing for help with the problems their marriage was having had advised Colin from the beginning this way. "Try to understand some of what the other person must be feeling before responding." _

"_I sorry, sweetie." He apologized. "I saw the office furniture come in and I guess I just lost my head for a moment. You know what a tech junkie I am. I started thinking about getting everything up and running again, and I got carried away." Reluctantly setting aside putting the desk together, he went to help finish unloading the moving vans. "Good thing Jeremiah is at my mom's. This all crazy enough without the little guy being underfoot" he thought. He accepted a heavy box from off one of the trucks, probably the pots and pans his wife was so worried about, he figured, puffing slightly from the weight as he made his way up on to the porch and into the kitchen._

* * *

"Good thing I'm not any taller" Colby muttered as he traversed the narrow corridor. A naked low wattage bulb crudely mounted immediately inside the entranceway lit his way for about five feet before he lost any benefit from it. His fingers itched for the reassuring feel of a weapon as he slid along the roughly hewn tunnel cautiously. The space was tight, with a very low ceiling and walls so close together that there was barely enough room for him to pass. He could make out the glow from another bulb ahead of him.

"This probably isn't one of the smartest things you've ever done, Granger." He wondered if his involuntary vacation might not be affecting his judgment to a certain degree. He must be at least moderately off his rocker, walking into this unarmed and without backup. He wasn't even sure how much time he had. If "Big" held true to his promise to "Little" Colby reasoned, he'd better get a move on. Things would get nasty if the two discovered they had themselves an uninvited guest. He couldn't abandon his quest, however. He had to verify the chilling suspicion taken root in his mind. Fifteen feet in, then another five, (was he still under the house?), he passed the second light. Beneath his shoes were the same bricks which lined the sides of this bizarre thoroughfare. Involved in more than a few minor construction projects in his time, Granger could tell the bricks had been placed by hand. The quality of the work started out sub-par, but improved as he progressed. Maybe whoever built it had gotten more skilled as they worked over the months this must have taken to complete.

Another five or so feet later, things changed drastically as the brickwork changed to commercial concrete. Colby could finally stand upright as the claustrophobically small area opened into a much larger space. With a slight shock, he realized he was now under the streets of Seattle, immersed, so to speak, in the city's runoff system. So this was one way Avery Cummings, "Big" and the one Colby had christened "Little" were able to go sight unseen to and from the former Russell property. They merely used the subterranean trails provided for them by the city planners. What was it with psycho's and sewers? First Vance Allard, now this guy. He didn't need to ask how the cops had missed this. If he hadn't seen that wall open up with his own eyes, he never would have suspected it himself. He kept going. The tunnel grew steadily wider, turning at a sharp right angle after a few more feet. He pulled a mini flashlight from his pocket. At this stage of the journey, even his carefully nurtured night eyes were having difficulty seeing anything. He rounded another corner. This impromptu trip of his was turning into a veritable maze. Good thing about mazes, they always had two openings. He needed to find the other end of this one since trying to leave the way he'd entered was—

Suddenly getting out was the last thing on his mind. Three feet in front of him lay an abundance of unexpected choices. He'd come to a fork in the road. The drainage tube branched off in two directions, with, of course, no way of knowing which to choose. Granger gave both only a cursory glance. He had a third option. Probably originally intended by its designers to provide access to the underground grid from a street level, stood a heavy steel door. If somebody'd asked him why later, he would have never been able to explain it, but for some reason, he had the total conviction that what he was looking for was on the other side of that door. Trying to ignore the dozen or so oompa loompa Colby's running around in his head screeching dire warnings, he walked over to the door, gripping it in both strong, gloved hands, bunched his muscles, and, praying for oiled hinges, or at least not hellacious loud ones, pulled.

* * *

"You mean you haven't heard from Colby since this morning?" Kerri asked, trying not to panic. Returning from the King County Courthouse, she questioned her mother.

"Not since about eleven." Jane answered. Worried herself, she tried to sound nonchalant. She'd only known Colby Granger for a week but her concern for him was genuine. "I'm sure he's fine, honey. Colby strikes me as very capable of handling himself. He said we have to trust him, remember? So we have to try and do that, okay sweetie?" Her calm words belied the unrest she felt. Colby did strike her as tough and capable, but this old case that her husband couldn't seem to let go of… If anything happened to the man her daughter loved because of it, Jane knew Kerri would somehow hold herself to blame. She thought back to the overheard conversation between he and Kerri of that morning.

"_Baby, I need you to trust me on this one" Colby began._

"_I do trust you Colby, I always have and I always will, but-" Kerri objected_

"_No buts, honey, I'm right about this. We've gotta handle it this way and you're the only one who can take care of this part of it. I made a promise to your dad. One cop to another. I've gotta keep it. Somebody has to take care of getting your old man out of the jam he's in. You're the best one for the job." _

"_But, Colby, we don't even know we can trust Thomas. He's Willis's __**partner**__, Colby. How many times have you told me how powerful that bond can be? How hard it is for anyone else to get in between? Look and you and David! Look what your bond as partners managed to survive!" Kerri replied, agitated. _

"_Kerri, I have a feeling Willis and Thomas don't have anywhere near the kind of partnership David and I do. As a matter of fact, l get the distinct impression Thomas might not even like the guy. He for sure doesn't trust him. I could see it in his eyes the other night. He knows Willis though. I could tell that by the eyes too. Trust me, love. Thomas is safe. I need to get back over to that house and pick up where your dad and I left off. You need to go talk to Thomas. That CI, Bailey, he's the key to getting your dad off the hook. Take Thomas with you to the hospital. Squeeze the truth out of Bailey and make sure Detective Thomas hears every word. He'll do the right thing. I'm sure of it." Granger knew he could be very convincing when he put effort into it, but he was trying to sway a woman who made her living arguing, so he made the extra effort._

"_But what about you! Colby, you can't go back there alone! What about this man you chased!? What happens if you get hurt again? If he tries to hurt you? And what if he's not alone? Somebody tripped you on those steps! It couldn't have been him, so… Colby, don't go back there alone, Please, baby, please!" Kerri couldn't keep the fear from her voice and didn't try. Colby's first trip to that house cost him a visit to the ER, and her father had been with him then. Now he proposed going back without any company at all. It felt like a lousy idea to her, dangerous and foolhardy. _

"_Kerri, honey, please don't worry. I promise, I'll be extra careful. Trust me, if the mystery man and his sidekick are there, they will never know I am. I plan to stay well out of their way. Believe me, baby, I know how to get in and out without anyone knowing I've been there. Done it lots of times. I'm good at it. Very good when I want to be, and I want to be now, so you __**do not**__ need to stress about this. I'll be fine. I'm going to go take a look, see if I'm right about what I'm thinking and then get outta Dodge, that's all. No heroics, nothing flashy. Then I'm right back here. I love you Kerri. There's a lot we still have to do together. I'm not to going to do anything to screw with that. My word, baby, okay? Now go see Thomas." _

Colby dispatched her to see the homicide cop with those words, before she could argue further. Her mission to untangle Steve from his troubles a success, she'd returned to her parents home hours later expecting to find Colby waiting. But he wasn't. More time passed and still no Colby, and worse, no word from him. Kerri tried not worry, but as time ticked by, it got more difficult. Her father, pacing back and forth, staring angrily at the phone, didn't help.

Headlights in the driveway and a knock on the door made her gasp. She flew out of the chair, yanking the door open, desperate to see Colby.

Rudy Thomas stood in the doorway, looking weary and ashamed. "Your monitoring device has been turned off" he told Steve. "I'm here to remove it. You're, uh, you're free to do whatever you want."

"What about Willis?" Steve questioned as the ankle monitor came off.

"Marty, he's…been…he's, internal affairs is talking to him." Thomas stood, monitor in hand. I gotta go. Sorry about everything. 'Night." He left quickly, reluctant to be in their company any longer than necessary.

The second the door closed behind him, Steve was in motion. "I'm going" he answered Kerri before she could ask. "I'll find him, but I'm sure he's ok. He's got a good reason for not calling. You'll see. You'll see." He had a hand on the door knob to open it when the headlights of a second vehicle shone thru the window. Walton stepped out onto the porch, but with the lights blinding him could not tell who the visitor was. Killing the engine and lights, the driver got out and came towards him. His eyes were still adjusting when Kerri zoomed past him, ebony hair flying. She ran down the drive, throwing herself at the man, relief coming off her in waves. Colby.

They all went into the house, Granger rather awkwardly with a hundred pounds of girlfriend wrapped around him, but he accomplished it. He held her back just as tightly. She felt good. Especially after what he'd just seen. The four ended up arranged around the living room, Kerri glued to Colby's side, holding hands.

"Colby, what happened? Why didn't you call? Let us know something? I've been going out of my mind. I was going completely freaking crazy! I didn't know what to think!" Kerri fired questions and comments at him machine gun quick. The dam burst, it all came pouring out of her at once.

"Honey, slow down ok? I'm alright. Nothing out of place. No injuries or damage of any kind. I told you I could handle it, didn't I. O ye of little faith!" he teased her gently, kissing her to short circuit the next round of questioning.

"Ahem" Jane said loudly. "The reunion is very sweet children" She gave Granger a baldly curious look, "but I want to know too! What did happen over there? Did you find out anything more? And why didn't you call? You were out of touch for a long time, you know."

"Whoa, Walton women, give me a second to answer, huh?" Colby chuckled, see Kerri and her mother both practically vibrating with the need to know.

"Look, I didn't call because I couldn't call. No service. Not too many phones work underground." He paused, giving his words a chance to sink in.

"Underground?" Steve echoed.

"Yes" Colby answered, allowing the darkness of what he'd seen to come thru to the other man. "Underground." He shook his head, still trying to come to grips with what he'd found behind the steel door. He didn't want to say it and he did at the same time. Besides, after all this time, and all the hours the Russell case had consumed him, Steve Walton deserved to know if anyone did.

"I found them" he told the retired cop. "I found the Russell family" Hating to say what he had to say in front of Kerri and Jane, he gave his three listeners the details of his second visit…

* * *

...There were times, Colby thought, when being right sucked the hind tit. This one did that and then some. He'd been witness to some pretty horrific sights since leaving Winchester, Idaho for the big wide world. Many of the twisted things people could think up to do to one another couldn't even make him blink nowadays. This was so far beyond that line. The grotesque tableau in front of him evoked a host of visceral emotions. Revulsion, anger, resolve and wrenching sympathy all fought for dominance.

Getting the door opened proved to be much easier that he'd expected. Limber from frequent use, it admitted him soundlessly. Holding his compact flashlight ahead of him, he dreaded what he might find, yet was unable to resist continuing on. If his suspicions were correct, Steve Walton's cold case was about to heat up big time.

Wide and high enough to allow for much easier movement, this portion of the shaft, he could see, had been converted at least partially into a storage area. Shelving lined one side, holding canned food, a Coleman stove, camping lanterns and sleeping gear. His ears picked up the faint hum of a small generator. Powering what in addition to the tiny bit of light he'd encountered so far, he wondered? A heat source, possibly. It was definitely warmer on this side of the door. "Guess even a bent spoon like Avery Cummings digs his creature comforts" Colby snorted.

Putting one foot gingerly in front of the other, he reached a junction. There were three routes to choose from this time. "Well now, which way, left, right or straight ahead?" He'd been down here probably longer than was good for him. Better get off the dime. "Big" might be 'home' any second.

"Enough dickin' around" he grumbled, angry at himself for the wasted moments. "I'll take door number two, Wayne" he said, picking the middle path. As he moved in that direction, the buzz of the generator grew louder. He was sure getting close to something. Traffic rumbled by on the streets thirty feet above him. His small flashlight was giving it's best to the cause, but it was still pretty hard to see anything, so he put a hand on the cool bricks to help feel his way along. Thus it was his fingers and not his eyes that found the corner of the wall and told him to make a right turn. What he found awaiting him around that corner, for Colby, became his own personal new standard for the indescribable. A curse _and _a blessing. Janus indeed.

Granger estimated the space he now stood in at approximately seven by ten feet. The generator that he'd heard stood in one corner. Taking up most of the remaining space was an obviously hand-fashioned wooden table and chairs. A red and white checked cloth which had seen its better days long ago partially covered the tabletop. Dust covered dishes and utensils tarnished black from disuse were also present. Seated at either end of it, in macabre imitation of family dinnertime, were the skeletal remains of two people who could only be Colin and Aimee Russell. Food long since rotted away or carried off by the other permanent denizens of the underground, one of Colin's bony hands rested on the rusty remains of a fork. His head was positioned to gaze eternally with sightless eyes upon his wife. Aimee's mouth hung partly opened, poised forever on the edge of speech. It took Colby's stunned, sickened mind a moment to process the whole aberrant picture. Once he'd developed it mentally, however, he realized it held an anomaly. There had been _three_ people in the house that night, ten years ago. The husband, his wife, **and** their child. There were only two bodies here. The third, Jeremiah Russell, three years old at the time of the slayings, would be thirteen now. Thirteen. Just about the size and age, the FBI agent realized with a chill that traveled from head to toe, as the size of "Little," who now cowered in the darkness of the kitchen, waiting for "Big" to return. The true scope of what happened to the Russell's settled on Colby Granger like a funeral shroud. It couldn't be, but it had to be. It had to. Bile rose in his throat as he accepted that his reasoning was inescapable. Jeremiah, after experiencing the murders, possibly before his eyes, of his parents, had been for ten years, forced to endure the twisted mercies of their killer. "Little" was Jeremiah. And somehow, Colby had to free him from this Abaddon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters belong to me, whether they want to or not. Let's continue**

Chapter 12

Nikki Bentancourt frowned as her empty stomach rumbled . There'd been no opportunity for a meal since pulling out of the MDC parking lot behind her subject earlier that evening. "This better be worth it, Carlos. I'm passing on scented candles, red wine and a sexy evening in a tub of warm, soapy water with a hot man to follow you around, not to mention risking my whole career as an FBI agent, so you better make it worth my while" Nikki groused.

Carlos Herrera, the MDC correctional officer she was following, of course, completely ignored this unheard chastisement. Driving thru the city, utterly oblivious to his watcher, Herrera flitted from spot to spot, "like some kind of butt ugly social butterfly" Nikki fussed. "You supposedly worked nine hours in one of the toughest jails in the country. You couldn't just go home like the rest of America after knocking off for the day?" Where was he finding the energy to go from the Metropolitan Detention Center to a bar, later to see his girlfriend, and still be getting into his car bound for another destination? He sure wasn't headed to his apartment. She knew the man's address, and it was in the other direction. Bentancourt checked her watch. Almost eleven-thirty. "I must out of my mind. Or maybe I'm just wrong. Maybe it's not him. Maybe I picked the wrong one after all and I just don't want to admit I botched it." She thought about it for a minute or two. "No, no I'm not wrong. It's him. I just need to be patient. This might take more than one night, that's all. Gotta be patient. Sooner or later, ole Carlos is gonna give something away, and then I got him. I'm not wrong, he's the one."

Nikki Bentancourt was a woman on a mission. When Colby Granger received his unexpected, unpaid time off last week, he'd stopped at his desk long enough to grab his jacket and get out, leaving Don to do the explaining. He hadn't given any of his teammates the chance to show their support. Colby's demeanor had been a combination of anger and embarrassment, like he wasn't sure how his fellow agents would take the news. Getting on the elevator, Granger turned around, leaning on the back wall arms and legs crossed, and by sheer chance made eye contact with Nikki. The wry, slightly bitter twist to his lips said what he did not have to say aloud. "Guess you're not the only one around here who thinks I could be a murderer. Feel better?" The doors closed, Colby still staring at her.

"Actually, no" Nikki answered him silently. "I feel like I just tossed a sack full of puppies into the L.A. River". Despite her earlier conversation with David Sinclair, Nikki knew Granger did not kill Jack Lucern. She didn't believe he'd hired it done either. She barely knew Kerri Walton, but couldn't see Colby covering for his girlfriend, so that let the lady D.A. out as the killer also.

Unfortunately, with exquisitely crappy timing, Granger chose to grab a cup of midday coffee at exactly the same time Nikki's dish ran away with her spoon, verbally speaking. Now Colby thought she believed him capable of murder, team Eppes was fragmented again, and, Bentancourt got the impression, she'd dropped a couple of notches in Sinclair's estimation. No doubt, she'd screwed up. Time to pull her head out of her vagina and do what she could to make it right.

She started where Colby's troubles did, at the MDC. It entailed a bit of creativity. One evening, she even had to fake leaving for the night and hide out in the ladies room until Don, David and Liz were gone home before sneaking back into the bullpen. Acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she fired up her computer and proceeded to pull up personnel records for the MDC. It took several nights of digging, inventing a migraine to get out of an after work drink and a lot of eye strain, but she finally hit pay dirt.

Nikki had to give it to Carlos Herrera. He'd gone to some lengths to hide his graft. He was clever enough not to openly flaunt the fruits of his corruption. He took pains to open an account not in his own name, but in his five year old _nephew's_ name. He might have pulled it off if Bentancourt, after several days of fruitless, frustrating dead ends, hadn't remember the trick from her days in LAPD, helping narcotics detectives follow the money on drug cases. She'd started looking at not only the MDC officers, but checking for accounts under their family member's names, and, bingo. What do you know but little Antonio Herrera, son of one of Officer Carlos Herrera's sisters, suddenly sported a five figure bank account. Right around the same time Jackson Lucern checked out. How 'bout that? Start of a college fund for the kid courtesy of his proud uncle? Nikki didn't think so. She had a fairly decent idea of where that money came from. It looked like she'd found the hole Lucern's killer slipped thru at the detention center. She didn't have the how yet, but she was pretty close to the who. She hoped. She'd keep tracking Officer Herrera until he slipped up and gave her the smoking gun. What to do when she got it was a bridge Nikki knew she would have to cross eventually.

Herrera was coming back to his car. Took him long enough. Ducking down to avoid being seen after the man emerged from the gas station's interior with a pack of smokes, scratching what looked like a lottery ticket (she'd followed this fool all over hell's half acre for a scratch off!?) It looked like he was _finally_ headed for home. She kept with him just to make sure, then turned to go to her own digs. Tomorrow was another day. Thinking of her blown evening and Ian Edgerton again, Nikki staggered into the elevator, punching the button for her floor. "Colby, wherever you are, you sure better appreciate this" she mumbled tiredly, slipping her key into the lock.

* * *

"Colby, we have to get the boy out of there! We have to get him away from that monster!" Steve Walton stated emphatically. "When I think about him… all this time…for _ten_ years!" Steve shook his head again, still reeling from the night's revelations.

"I know, Steve. Trust me, I know. And we are, we are going to get that kid out." Colby answered Kerri's dad in a carefully measured tone, trying to calm things down. "But we have to think about this, okay? We're only going to get one chance, so we gotta be smart about it. You, me, whoever, if we go charging in with a SWAT team and a battering ram and a bull horn…Come on man, we've both seen how fast those two can Houdini. We roll up on 'em with a truckload of sound and fury they can be into those sewers and go ghost on us before we can even get the door down. Nobody will ever see that kid again. Who knows what kind of warped creation Cummings'll turn him into? There's ten years of damage to undo as it is. We have to think about this! It gonna take some planning, alright?" He thought back to earlier in the evening and the decisions he'd come to while looking upon the resting place of Colin and Aimee.

Walton mirrored Granger's initial impulse as he'd realized who the frightened figure huddled in the former kitchen of the Russell home had to be. The Hieronymus Bosch scene in the sewer and the circumstances of Jeremiah Russell's survival defied normal reactions. Damping down the wave of pity he had no time for, Colby forced himself to consider the situation from as many angles as possible. He wished acutely for the presence of the Eppes brothers. Don's strategic thinking and Charlie's math genius would sure come in handy right about now. But they weren't here. It was just him, so he would have to do. Getting Jeremiah away from Cummings was the priority, but Colby was pretty sure it wouldn't be as easy as simply racing back upstairs, grabbing the kid and muscling him out of the house and into the Durango. Isolated from nearly all other human contact since the age of three, Avery Cummings was more than the only 'family' Jeremiah Russell knew, he was practically the boy's whole world. No way would the teen go quietly. He'd need to be subdued, and he'd be struggling, panicked out of his mind the entire way. It was a battle Granger declined to fight. Jeremiah had suffered enough physical and mental blows. He needed to find another way. He briefly entertained the notion of retracing his steps back to the house and leaving the way he'd entered, thru the jimmied side door at the end of the hallway, but shot that option down. "Big", Avery Cummings, was probably back by now. Getting into it with a card carrying whack job on the whack job's home turf, in the dark, with a wild card like Jeremiah in the mix, Uh uh. Not tonight. "Gotta get back to the Walton place. Make a plan." With plenty of experience at crawling thru dark, unpleasant spaces, courtesy of the caves of mountainous Afghanistan, Colby gradually found his way up out of Seattle's sewer system and back to the surface. Getting back to his vehicle, he gunned the engine. He and Steve Walton had a lot to discuss. Granger even had an idea about who else he might like to include in their impromptu rescue mission.

* * *

The phone rang in the wee hours, waking him early. He rolled over in bed, groping for the receiver in the darkened bedroom. "Thomas" Rudy croaked, wondering who could be calling him at, what time was it? Six A.M.

"Det. Thomas, my name is Colby Granger. We met the other night at the hospital."

"I remember" Thomas replied. "What do you want?"

"I want you to get dressed and meet me and Steve Walton at Coffee Mama in a half an hour" Colby told him, naming a popular Seattle breakfast spot.

"And why would I want to do that?" the detective replied. He had an "interview" scheduled later that day with IA. With the lid peeled back, the worms of Marty Willis's murky career were slowly escaping their slimy can. Internal Affairs wanted to know how much Rudy knew, and how long he'd known it. Thomas was in no mood to deal with the FBI, or Walton either.

"There's been a development in the Russell case. Something's going to happen. Something you're going to want to be a part of"

"I am, huh?" Thomas waxed sarcastic.

"Yeah" Colby answered dryly. "You am. Thirty minutes." The line went dead.

* * *

"He's not coming" Steve told Colby, staring thru the moisture soaked glass. The corner booth they inhabited looked out onto the misty streets of the Seattle morning. The sun tried but failed to penetrate the clouds and a cold drizzle prevailed. They'd been waiting for Rudy Thomas to show for forty-five minutes, nursing cups of coffee and picking over the remains of the basket of too sweet cinnamon rolls offered along side.

"He'll be here, Steve. He's still inside an hour. Probably thought about it for maybe, oh, ten, fifteen minutes before stepping into a pair of pants, but he'll be here. Don't sweat it. I said thirty minutes to get him moving in the right direction, that's all. Relax." Colby reassured the other man.

Granger wasn't worried, confident he'd gauged Thomas correctly. As he'd told Kerri, Thomas and Willis didn't have the normal 'got your back no matter what' partnership that he and David Sinclair did. He and David were much closer to brothers than partners. Not so with Thomas and Willis. At the hospital, after getting his head injury tended to, Colby had managed to catch the briefest glimpse of Rudy Thomas's face as he helped break up the skirmish between Willis and Steve Walton. He'd seen it, fleeting, but unmistakable. Contempt. Thomas more than disliked his partner. For reasons Granger would not want to explore too deeply, he got the feeling Thomas would welcome the chance to rid himself of Det. Martin Willis for good, and to distance himself from his corrupt partner. Well, here it is dude. And it ain't gonna get no better than this.

Entering the café on the heels of the thought, Rudy Thomas walk into Coffee Mama, looking over the moderately populated booths and tables until he saw Colby and Steve. He stood blocking the doorway for a moment longer, then, with the air of someone caught between two unpalatable choices, started over.

"See" Colby said to Steve, indicating Thomas's approach with an incline of his head. "Told ya. Make some room" he suggested. "Smiley here can sit next to you"

"You said this had to do with the Russell case" Thomas said sourly, getting right to business. "I've been over that material front to back, sideways and inside out. There's nothing you can tell me I don't already know."

"So, you're here… why?" Colby asked, calling the pitifully transparent bluff.

"Have a cup of coffee, Rudy" Steve prompted. "You look as if you could use one". Right on cue, a waitress appeared.

* * *

"Nikki? Nikki? Nikki!" Liz Warner raised her voice slightly, finally getting her teammate's attention after several moments of trying. What was wrong with Bentancourt this morning? The curly haired Nikki had come shuffling in with only moments to spare before she would have been late for work. Sandy eyed and listless, Nikki displayed the energetic pace of a tortoise. And if she yawned one more time she'd get Liz going too.

"What is that, your fifth or sixth cup of coffee? Woman, you are really out of it today! What kind of night did you have anyway? 'Cause you look like you didn't sleep a wink" Liz teased.

"I didn't have nearly as much fun as you probably think I did" Nikki shot back blearily. "It was just a long, sleepless, non-productive night." She fought to stay awake, remembering the days not so long ago when she could blow off a sleepless night with no problem.

Liz frowned at the seeming non-sequitur. "Non-productive? What exactly were you trying to produce besides a good time? I thought you were going to look up Ian and see what else the night had in store."

Oops. Nikki kicked herself for the slip. Bad enough to mess around with her own career prospects. She had no desire, zero, to take any of her teammates down with her if it came to that. So, they didn't get the skinny on her little snipe hunt. She covered as best she could.

"That's what I meant. Called Ian. No joy. Wherever he is, he didn't answer. My night was a lot different than I'd hoped for. And then I couldn't get to sleep." She'd spent what was left of the night staring at the ceiling after arriving home, too many details on her mind to get much rest. "I'm so beat my tired is tired."

"Yeah, so I noticed" Don Eppes chimed, coming back to the bull-pen. "You drag any lower, the cleaning crew can skip this floor tonight. Things are kind of quiet around here right now. Therefore, by the powers vested in me by the Los Angeles field office of the FBI, I hereby declare thee unfit for duty. Go home, Agent Bentancourt. Get out and don't come back until you can keep your eyes open and your head off your desk. Go. Now. Before I change my mind. Beat it. Vamoose. Hasta la vista." Don made a shooing motion with his hand, already focused on the report in his hand.

"But boss, I…" Nikki felt obligated to make at least a token protest.

"You're no good like you are now, Nikki. In your condition, you're more liable to do harm than good. I mean it. Hit the door and get some rest. Six to eight hours minimum. Clear? Now go, before some enterprising felon out there starts getting ideas and things start to pop and I can't let you leave. Move it. Liz, find David and meet me in briefing." The SSA walked away, studying the file from his morning meeting with the ADIC.

Nikki meant to resist further. She truly did. But when she opened her mouth, she was too tired to remember what to say. Grabbing her purse, she splashed cold water on her face in the ladies room, made it to her car, and accomplished driving home with a great deal of concentration. Falling into bed, her last action was to set her alarm four hour's hence. She'd get that much sleep, and, then pick up the trail on Officer Carols Herrera.

* * *

Unknown by almost everyone, 12973 Marshlight Lane began its structural life as a speakeasy in the early 1920's. Prohibition era gangsters used Seattle's relative proximity to the Canadian border to keep supplied with copious amounts of various banned beverages. The booze made the long journey down from the U.S.'s northern neighbor, past border restrictions, and into the city. From there it traveled thru Seattle's very conveniently constructed sewer and drainage system into the tunnel fashioned by the profit minded criminals right into the home's basement, up the stairs and down the throats of thirsty customers. After hooch became legal again thanks to the 21st Amendment, the crooks moved on to other pursuits and the home changed hands several times. Lying unforgotten for several decades, the secret passage underneath the house waited to be rediscovered. When his mother's series of incapacitating strokes rendered her no longer able to control his every movement, Avery Cummings, in his mid- teens at the time, accidently stumbled on the hidden entrance during one of his nocturnal forays. He immediately recognized its potential, for so many things. He'd smiled cruelly at the time. The city of Seattle, his Green Lake neighbors in particular, owed a great debt. Here, before his eyes, was the means to aid him in extracting payment. Mother had been right. The perversions of the weak and the base could indeed be turned against them.

* * *

Nikki Bentancourt followed as Officer Carlos Herrera drove from the detention center to his favorite fast food joint for lunch. She took a bite from her own sandwich. She wasn't going to miss another meal trying to keep up with this mutt. Herrera probably only had one hour for the midday meal. Bet he takes more than that all the time, Nikki thought. Sure enough, after the burger joint, Herrera headed not back to work but over to harass his woman for a little afternoon delight. Still crudely zipping up afterwards, he emerged on to the street and walked to his parked auto. As the man drove away from the direction of the MDC, Nikki wondered where they were headed now. At least she felt much better able to keep up with him. The four hours sleep she'd gotten from her unexpected day off recharged her batteries nicely. Thank you Don Eppes.

She couldn't begin to understand Herrera's crooked path as he meandered thru L.A. Where in the world was he going? Several more moments of driving found the corrections officer and his FBI agent audience parked outside a Yourmail Express store. Nikki watched as he went in, using an electronic card key to open one of the rented boxes. Using the small but powerful binoculars she carried to help with the surveillance, she saw him take money from the box, placing some bills into his wallet. He then replaced the rest of the cash, closed the box, came out of the store and got back into his car, this time returning to work. Hmm, Nikki thought. It looked like Officer Herrera hadn't been as through at covering his tracks as he'd supposed. He'd have to pay for that. She'd make sure of it.

* * *

Colby, Steve Walton and Rudy Thomas sat around the Walton dining room table reviewing their plan for the assault on the Russell home. Thomas still wore a slightly shell-shocked expression from the morning's conversation at Coffee Mama. It all sounded so far out totally insane. Secret tunnels, hidden passageways, a psychotic killer who kept his victims stashed for private viewing. What did he consider Jeremiah? Prisoner, protégé? Most disturbing of all, family? It boggled the mind to even think about. Rudy didn't doubt he'd been given the truth. Nobody could make this stuff up. He agreed vehemently with Granger and Walton. They had to rescue the boy. Ten years of madness was enough. The Seattle homicide detective put aside consideration of how his partner, Marty Willis might have contributed to Jeremiah's situation by sabotaging the long ago investigation. That was for later. He made himself pay attention to Colby Granger as the FBI agent outlined again the approach they'd be making to their target.

"…This is the spot I waited in yesterday" Colby was saying. "It's at the side of the house, in a thick copse of trees. It's close to the door, and with any luck, neither Cummings or Jeremiah has realized somebody else has been playing in their sandbox and the door's still good for entry. The key is waiting until the right time. Cummings is in and out of there on a nightly basis. I don't even want to think about where he goes or what he does when he leaves, but, hopefully, he won't take the kid with him again tonight. From the sound of him, Jeremiah sounds pretty rattled just at the idea of leaving the place. I think maybe he sees it as some sort a security blanket. Maybe part of him still thinks of it as the place he lived with his mom and dad. I don't know, but I think it works in our favor."We wait until they're separated, then snatch Jeremiah."

"You do know it's not going to be that easy, right?" Thomas said acidly.

"Nothing about this is easy." Colby refused to be drawn. "It's time to get off the pot, detective. Are you committed or not? 'Cause if you're comin' you'd better be committed. Steve's going to really need your help with Jeremiah."

"He's gonna need my…I know I'm just a dumb local cop, so forgive me for asking the obvious, but what exactly are you going to be doing while we're handling the kid?" Thomas questioned.

"Oh, that's the best part of this 'mission impossible' episode" Granger supplied, an ironic set to his mouth Nikki would have recognized. "Cummings isn't going to let us just bop in and take Jeremiah away from him. He'll be coming. Somebody's got to get in his way. That's my job."

"Let me get this straight" Rudy sputtered, "You're planning to take down this killer clown all by yourself, no backup, no weapon, no nothing. You just walk in, yell "FBI!" and expect this nutlog to fall to the ground and surrender!?" Thomas was incredulous.

"Did I say that?" Colby's patience was ebbing. "I'm only telling you we better be ready for him. Besides" Granger gave Thomas a chill half grin, "he and I have yet to be properly introduced. I think I'm gonna take care of that tonight. And who said anything about no weapon" he showed Rudy the freshly cleaned and ready to use gun in the holster clipped to his waist. He'd borrowed Steve's old backup weapon. "I've been there twice unarmed. Third time's the charm. There are a couple of brain cells behind this pretty face."

"You're alright with this!?" Rudy Thomas prodded Steve Walton, who'd remained silent while Colby laid out their plan before the Seattle homicide investigator.

"No, Rudy, I'm not alright with it. But the fact is, Colby's right, we don't have a lot of options to kick around here, and this is the one that has the best chance of working! Now, can we stop all the blather and get moving? My wife and daughter are going to be back any second now. I'd very much like to be gone when they return, so let's move!" Steve ordered grumpily. He was worried about Colby too, but could both see no alternative, nor persuade the younger man do change his mind.

After silence filled the air for a moment longer, Colby stood, stretched and gave his knuckles a crack. "Everything clear? Good. Ok, then let's rodeo!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters belong to me. One of them tried to escape, but I'm not saying which one.**

Chapter 13

"_There it is again! I know you had to hear it that time!" Aimee Russell shook her groggy husband more awake. "Don't try to tell me I imagined it this time, Colin. I definitely heard a noise downstairs!" She sat upright in bed, clutching the covers to her chin. _

"_Aimee, honey, please tell me we're not going to do this again tonight!" Colin groaned, rolling over in bed to deal with his semi-hysterical spouse. Why couldn't she let him sleep? Tomorrow was a make or break day for him. "It's an old house, sweetie" he reasoned thru clenched teeth. "It's going to settle, make noises, like any other place with this much age! The only reason you hear it more at night is because everything is quiet. No TV or anything else to cover it up. I can't keep getting up in the middle of the night to investigate every little sound! Please, honey. I've got a big day tomorrow, the presentation and everything, you know that! Gimme a break, huh? There's nobody else in the house but us! Can I go back to sleep now? Please!?" Colin flopped onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head. He was soon sound asleep once more._

_Tearful and tense, Aimee refused to relax. It was bad enough that she and Colin struggled to communicate at all these days. Now things had deteriorated to this. He was dismissing her legitimate fears as paranoia, accusing her of jumping at creaky floorboards. She threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Waking Colin again would be useless. She didn't need any more ridicule. But one of them had to check on Jeremiah. Determined to make sure her son was unharmed and sleeping peacefully, she grabbed a putter out of her golf bag and started nervously down the hallway._

_Bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor, she slowly pushed the boy's cracked bedroom door open wider, peeking in to check on him. The glow cast by the SpongeBob Squarepants nightlight her three year old swore he could not be without let her see him. Chest rising and falling gently, mouth slightly opened, Jeremiah Russell slumbered blissfully. Balboa, his floppy blue bear hugged to his tiny chest protectively, he'd kicked his blankets nearly off the bed. Pulling them back up over him, she kissed him softly and went back to her bedroom. Had she lingered by the child's bedside a moment longer, Aimee would have seen the large dark shadow that passed by the window. Unknowing but uneasy, she climbed back into bed next to Colin, the long night passing slowly. The pink and blue pastels of dawn decorated the skies before she finally slept. _

_Aimee hated her house. She hadn't always, but she did now. The scary part, the part she couldn't say out loud to anyone, especially Colin, was that she somehow __**knew**__, with absolute one hundred percent certainty, that the house returned her enmity. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. There were strange sounds at night or when only she and Jeremiah were at home. Objects inexplicably moved from one spot to another, belongings that went missing, and the terrifying feeling that she was being…watched. These things never happened to her husband or son, only to her. As if her new home bore her some unfathomable malice. But that was absurd, wasn't it? House's weren't alive. They were inanimate objects, not living beings. They were incapable of sentient thought or feeling. If she'd told Colin how she felt he'd have laughed, or taken Jeremiah and left, and then laughed. Maybe he would have accused her of trying to sabotage his work again. All of her family lived out of state, she and Colin's mother had a difficult relationship at best, and she had no close friends here. She'd called the cops once and ended up being threatened with jail for attempting to file a false report. So she soldiered on in silence, fighting a daily pitched battle with the roof over her head. She would not let the house win. She couldn't. She didn't dare. _

* * *

Completing his daily check-in with Don, Colby closed his phone, looking over his shoulder at Steve Walton and Rudy Thomas. He quashed the sliver of doubt trying to seep in. They were out of road. No room for doubts. Not at this stage of the game. He just wished he hadn't used the term 'mission impossible episode' with Thomas. Now he couldn't get the theme music from the sixties TV series out of his head.

"Looks like the light is about right" he said. "What say we get this show on the road?" They sat in Colby's vehicle, half a block from the house. All three were armed . He hoped they wouldn't be using any weapons, but Colby hadn't gotten called "boy scout" by Che Lobo Santiago for nothing. He wasn't particularly worried about Jeremiah. Avery Cummings could be another story.

"Ready when you are Major Tom" Steve responded with a mock salute.

Colby grinned. "Major Tom was an astronaut. Let's try to keep this on the ground, ok?" He sobered. "Seriously, watch it in there. I got too much explaining to do if anything happens to either one of you." He and his ad hoc team began to move.

* * *

Nikki took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and, after a last look around, picked up the payphone's receiver. After one more breath, she slipped enough coins in to complete the call, handed the receiver to the kid, and dialed.

"FBI" the gruff voice sounded tired, its owner at the end of a long, teeth grinding day.

"Agent Gorman?" the teenage girl blurted, trying her best to sound tough in front of the FBI agent. Nikki made the girl hold the phone so they both could hear.

"Yeah, who's this?" Gorman's clipped responses indicated he wasn't in the mood for nonsense. They'd better keep the conversation short.

" Don't worry 'bout that. You want to know who killed Jack Lucern? Talk to a guard at the MDC by the name of Carlos Herrera. He just came into a lot of dough. He's hiding the money under his nephew's name at Wells Fargo. Has a box at Yourmail Express on Halifax Street too. Check him out if you want to find who did Lucern." The girl hung up, before any questions came back her way. A hand on one of her bony hips, she held out the other.

"Okay, you said I could have the other half of the money after I did what you wanted. I just did what you wanted. Pay me!" she demanded. Nikki paid the kid and then dropped the girl in front of her home, waiting until the door closed behind the junior thugette-in-training.

"PLEASE! let me keep my job!" she threw out silently to the powers that be as she drove off. "I know it's hard to tell sometimes, but I really like what I do and the people I'm doing it with! Wait, that didn't come out right, but you know what I mean! I really don't want to get canned! PLEASE!" She got back in her car to go home. Surviving the idiocy on the 101 would help take her mind off her potential career suicide.

* * *

_He watched critically as the woman prepared dinner for her husband and son. Everything came from a box, can or jar. Mother would have disapproved, calling it a sign of laziness. He'd been observing her closely since the "happy" family had come to dwell at 12973 Marshlight Lane. He decided she was not a good caregiver. That she was, in fact, not even adequate. Mother's rules were ironclad, literally seared into his mind. He touched a finger to the long healed burn scars. Each room should be thoroughly cleaned, each day. Laundry was to be folded neatly and put in its proper place. The kitchen must be spotlessly cleaned and disinfected. This woman did none of those things, preferring instead to care for her home and family in a slovenly manner. _

_The man was no better. Claiming to have his family's best interests at heart, he worked twelve and fourteen hour days. More often than not, he continued his work after arriving home, spending hours at his computer entering and manipulating data. He snapped and pouted when interrupted, often getting into arguments with his wife about neglect and priorities. The property suffered too, with the woman often needing to badger her spouse into caring for the overgrown lawn and shrubbery or make needed repairs to the house. _

_But their chief sin, the most egregious of all their faults, the one they both must be suffered to answer for, was the boy. Their blatant disregard for his welfare deserved punishment. Unable to see to his own needs, the child depended on his parents for nearly everything. His food, shelter, and guidance, all were the obligation of the mother and father to provide. It enraged him to see the pitiful half measures Colin and Aimee Russell employed in the care of their son. Leaving him alone in his room to play with toys for hours at a time, feeding him sub-par meals, and their curt dismissal of his requests for attention. That they dared to treat his "brother" this way made him boil with anger. _

_For Avery Cummings had come to see Jeremiah Russell as the brother he'd never had as a child. As his family, to be nurtured and loved. Taken care of in the right way. When the Russell's had moved into the home formerly owned by his mother, he'd desired to adopt all three as his family, but soon decided that the parents were unworthy. The home's past as a den of iniquity allowed him to watch and evaluate them unnoticed. He came to a momentous choice. Colin and Aimee were "violators." Jeremiah must be liberated from the life of benign neglect his parents subjected him to. He could take much better care of his "brother" without their bumbling interference. Little Jeremiah would not understand in the beginning, but Avery knew the boy would adapt over time. _

_He set about to destabilize the woman first, keeping her awake at night with sound, moving things around, taking what she did not deserve to have away from her, leaving her with no way to explain the mysterious happenings. It was easy to isolate her. She received no support from her spouse. Colin Russell laughed, joking unkindly that perhaps she was imagining things or maybe spending too much time with no one but a small boy for company. After a time, she said nothing, bottling up her fears, or drowning them in glasses of wine in front of the television._

_The husband followed, and was even easier. Tampering with his precious electronic pets, his toys, struck at what he prized most. Certainly more than his wife or son. Making him believe Aimee's resentment of his working hours made her responsible for the damage increased the friction between the married couple. Slowly accelerating the level of torment, their just reward for their treatment of Jeremiah, Avery Cummings was both agitator and witness to the disintegration of a marriage. When, in his judgment, they had paid sufficiently, he ended it, putting them down like sheep to the slaughter. Afterwards, bathed in their blood, he'd gone in search of Jeremiah, find the child hiding in the closet of his bedroom, wide eyed and shaking violently, clutching a stuffed blue bear and weeping softly. _

"_Come now, brother, no weakness. It's going to be better now. You'll now have the family you deserve. I will care for you in the way you should have been cared for all along. Come now" he said, reaching for the three year old. _

* * *

"_That's the thing about plans" Colby Granger said to David Sinclair as they watched Liz Warner, against orders, climb into the backseat of a murderous drug dealer's car. "They're great right up to the time you put them into action." _

This one started off well enough. The trio of himself, Steve Walton and Rudy Thomas had gotten to the house in plenty of time. Making the most careful entry possible, they found places of concealment, no mean accomplishment in the almost empty rooms. Granger was closest to the kitchen door, wanting to cut off Cummings and Jeremiah's one sure escape route. Steve and the Seattle homicide detective were farther away, on the other side of the wall separating the kitchen and dining areas.

Right on cue, almost as if bidden, the perverted killer and his teenaged victim/apprentice appeared as the basement door opened. Coming into the kitchen, Avery Cummings drew Jeremiah out behind him, needing to coax the timid youngster into the open.

Only a few more feet. That's right, Colby urged silently, keep coming, you're almost there. It was a matter of inches now. He wanted their two subjects, especially the boy, as close to the center of the room as possible. Far enough away from the cellar door, he hoped, to keep it from becoming a bolt hole.

"Brother" Jeremiah pleaded, in a near panic state, "please let me stay here tonight. You know it frightens me, out, out, out there." Jeremiah pointed a quivering finger towards the front of the house.

Cummings voice was harsh and firm. " No, brother. Not tonight. I cannot indulge your weakness yet again. You _must_ learn to be strong. To have no mercy or compassion for the corruption of others. And you must not fear them. They must learn to fear you. To fear your mind and your deeds. To fear the justice you bring them for their foolish vices. It's our task. We mustn't shirk it. Come now. No more delay, the night's work awaits us." He grabbed the reluctant, whimpering teen, pulling him along.

The two were right where Colby wanted them to be. He uncoiled, preparing to jump the unsuspecting Avery, and was poised on the balls of his feet when the wheels started to come off his brilliant master plan.

_**RING!!! **_Sounding incredibly loud, Rudy Thomas's cell phone shattered the brittle silence, sending a shock thru all five occupants of the room. A veteran cop, Thomas had made the greenie mistake of forgetting to turn his phone off. Unseen, the message window read **WILLIS CALLING.** Too late, he frantically shut it down, but the damage was done.

The psychopathic killer, Cummings, discovering he and Jeremiah were not alone, reacted with animal ferocity. Steve and Thomas poured into the kitchen, Steve going for the hysterical Jeremiah. The young boy was spinning in circles, an inarticulate wail indicating his distress.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Brother, help me! Help me! Please! No! No! Go away!" Jeremiah screamed, wriggling frantically in Walton's grasp. The older man had his hands full containing the confused, unhinged adolescent, and could provide no assistance to Colby or Rudy Thomas.

Colby leapt for Cummings but missed as Cummings went towards the sound that had alerted him to danger. As he made contact with Rudy Thomas, one of Avery's hands touched Thomas's gun. Instantly understanding what the object was, Cummings pulled the weapon before the detective could prevent it. Not caring who he hit, Colin and Aimee's murderer fired.

Thomas's gasp of pain told Granger and Walton the shot had gone home. Slumping to the floor, all else forgotten, Rudy Thomas clutched his wounded leg in both hands, trying to stem the bleeding.

Colby tackled Cummings before he could shoot again, knocking the gun free. It went skidding across the floor out of reach. A brief, extremely violent tussle ensued, guttural grunts of madness issuing from Avery Cummings throat as he struck at his adversary.

Gaining the upper hand, Granger came very close to having Cummings subdued when Jeremiah twisted his slender frame bizarrely and managed to momentarily slip free of Steve Walton's grip. Going for the only refuge he knew, the boy threw himself at Avery Cummings, still shouting for his "brother's" help. He collided with Colby, creating a Gordian knot of arms and legs and liberating Cummings .

Covering the few feet back to the basement door in a flash, Cummings slammed the door behind him, locking it, and jumped, missing the entire flight of steps to land on the cold floor in a heap. Quickly recovering, he ran for the bootlegger's entrance.

Granger wanted to follow, but needed to see to the wounded Thomas. Blood leaking on to the floor, Thomas raised his head, sweat pouring off as he strained to talk.

"I'll be ok. It…it's not…it's not critical! Go after him! Go! Go! Go!" he urged, collapsing back to the floor.

Steve Walton cuffed Jeremiah Russell to the only appliance the kitchen held, the stove, and went to help.

"He's right! Go after him. I'll take care of Thomas and the kid! Go, Colby! Now! Hurry! Go! I've got this! Go!"

Colby nodded his assent. He'd have to trust Steve could handle the rest. Deciding not to waste the time trying to batter the door down, he shot at the lock, then plunged into the basement, seeking Avery Cummings.

* * *

"Me and my big mouth" Granger thought, disgusted. He pursued Avery Cummings thru the smugglers tunnel and past the skeletal death scene of Colin and Aimee's frozen in time meal. Maybe David was right. Maybe he did need a microchip. Or a keeper. Or something. This was getting to be a bad habit, him chasing these homicidal cracker box escapees thru the darkness.

He ran faster, chasing the fleeing man thru a section of Seattle's underground he'd not seen before. He could see flashes of moonlight as they passed beneath street grates in the sidewalks far above. Since he was armed, Colby thought about risking a shot to slow things up, but in the encompassing darkness, nixed the idea. As good a shot as he was, he knew when to put a lid on his ego.

Cummings reached an access ladder leading up to the street. If he made it to the surface, Colby figured he'd need some of Charlie's math to calculate how much more complicated the situation would get. He knew he had the best foot speed of anyone in Don's unit. Picking up the pace, he narrowed the distance between himself and his quarry.

Cummings started up the ladder, feet and hands slipping at first until he gained traction. Looking back over his shoulder, the man Colby chased snarled silently, much the same way he had the day Granger had first seen him standing in the Russell dining room. He turned his attention back to the slick rungs, desperate to make his escape. Avery's every pore oozed rage. These violators were the worst of all. Their repeated intrusions into his home screamed profound disrespect and now they had taken his brother from him. They had no right! They had **no right!!! **He would make them pay!! He would force them to give his brother back! They would suffer for their affront! Maybe one of them already had, he smiled, remembering the bleeding, groaning man lying on the kitchen floor. There was more in store for them. Although they did not realize it, due to their own carelessness, he knew how to find them. He had much practice hunting the weak and morally inferior. Above his head, the sound of traffic grew more audible. He would be above ground in mere seconds. The violator harassing his path was now at the bottom of the ladder but it would gain him nothing. Avery was inches from the manhole cover. Pushing up with all his considerable strength he shoved the heavy metal disc out of its groove and created enough opening to crawl up and out.

Colby cursed softly as he saw Cummings push thru the hole. Starting up after him, he reconsidered using his gun, but had no chance to. Halfway up the filthy ladder, hands and feet fighting for purchase on its slimy surface, he dug harder, keeping the other man in view. He couldn't afford to lose line of sight. His attention divided, he underestimated how precarious his present circumstances were. The lack of concentration came very close to getting him killed as one of his hands and then his feet slipped off their perch. The fingers of his other hand closed spasmodically around the bar, saving him from a crushing fall. His legs dangling in the air, he looked down, instantly realizing his mistake. Not having your feet under you was worse when you couldn't see what was down below you. Throwing himself at the ladder with a grunt, he seized it in both hands again. He'd have to rest later. He resumed his climb. The iron weight of the manhole cover rested half on, half off its base. Colby was unaware, but a sizable female portion of the L.A. field office timed their trips to the federal building gym to coincide with his for a very good reason. Enjoying the ripple and flow of muscles as he worked out was the highlight of many a feminine day. The regular conditioning paid off now. Putting a shoulder and a hand on the rim, he moved it completely out of his way with more ease than he expected. He poked his head out, picking up the receding form of Avery Cummings running hard down the winter dampened street. He swore again, pounding a fist against the drizzle soaked asphalt. He was about to finish climbing out when-**HHHHOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!! **Colby turned to see a huge box truck approaching at full speed. Over the blaring horn he could hear the scrape of rubber on the road and the squealing of breaks as the frantic driver tried to avoid the unexpected obstruction. It wasn't going to work and Granger froze for a split second dazzled by headlights as 16 tons of truck bore down on him relentlessly. With no other options, he took the only one left to him. Melting back down into the manhole, he yanked his head and shoulders out of the way just as the truck passed over, its massive size squishing the cast iron manhole cover. Once again engulfed in blackness, his night vision ruined by the enormous lights of the truck, he made a blind grab for the ladder-and missed! Both feet lost contact also, and F.B.I. Special Agent Colby Granger suddenly found himself freefalling towards the mud and concrete floor thirty feet below.


	14. Chapter 14

**Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters** **are still mine, the little whiners.**

Chapter 14

Back on third shift, which he actually preferred, for the next three weeks, Metropolitan Detention Center Officer Carlos Herrera finished buttoning his uniform shirt and hitched his pants up. Studying his reflection in the glass, he was pleased with what looked back at him. To keep the dangerous residents of the detention facility from getting their hands on firearms, Carlos and the other officers were only allowed to be armed with batons and pepper spray. That suited Carlos fine. He slipped the baton, its heaviness reassuring, into place and strode out of the guards locker room, prepared for another night of reminding the animals who was in charge of the zoo.

He barely had his trademark poker face up and running when he was flagged down while passing the 3rd floor guard station.

"Herrera." Tim Massey, a new guard, and veteran of two tours in Iraq as a Marine got his attention. He and Carlos had rubbed one another the wrong way right out of the chute. "Message for you from the Captain's office. They want to see you, right away."

"Me? What for?" Carlos questioned. He licked his lips nervously.

"No idea. But they said right away." Massey looked openly pleased at the prospect of trouble for Carlos.

Determining to brazen out whatever the problem was, Carlos marched into the Captains office, head high, attitude on his sleeve. Let 'em bring it. He wasn't no pussy.

He rudely brushed aside the man's mousy secretary, announcing himself on arrival. The captain wasn't alone. Two other men, unfamiliar to Herrera, waited within also.

"You wanted to see me sir?" He added the last word condescendingly.

The captain, a twenty year California Department of Corrections veteran, never got the chance to answer. One of the two visitors did it for him.

"Yes, he does. As do we, Officer Herrera. I'm Special Agent Gorman. This" the man indicated his dark suited companion, "is Special Agent Lennox. We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd like very much to discuss some recent, uh, changes in your financial situation and how that relates to your work here at the center." Gorman's frosty smile didn't get anywhere near his eyes.

Carlos's bravado deserted him in a rush. Uh Oh. It sounded like they knew about the money. How much did they know? About all of it? And about how he got it? If they knew about the money, what else did they know? Did they know about his little sleight of hand with the video equipment the night Jack Lucern had his deadly visitor? How could they have found out? How?! He sat, weak in the knees. His decision to forgo a shower and antiperspirant now a bad one, as stains began forming in his pits.

* * *

Colby flailed wildly, stretching in the direction of the ladder like it was made out of gold. His fingertips brushed a rung. No! As the ground rushed up to meet him, he twisted his body wildly and made a final life-saving attempt with a mid-air luuunnnggge---aauhhh! Got it! He held on for all he was worth, throwing his head back in a grimace of pain as his shoulder was nearly wrenched totally out of its socket. He gasped, drawing in great gulps of air and anchoring his other arm and both feet. Shuddering with relief, he rested, forehead against the cool metal. He looked up at the fifteen or so feet he'd fallen and began to climb again. He reached the top, and cautiously, this time, put his head above ground, checking out the potential traffic. Not a car or _TRUCK _in sight, box or any other kind. Beautiful. Hoisting the rest of him out of the opening, he replaced the cover. At least no one would drive into it. He got out of the middle of the street. Getting run down by some motorist on his or her way home after a long day seemed entirely possible under the circumstances. He looked in the direction he'd last seen Avery Cummings headed in. Nothing, of course. Taking a couple more minutes to reorient, Granger set off at a run in the direction of the Russell house, dialing as he went.

* * *

Controlled pandemonium greeted Colby upon his return to the Russell house. A brace of ambulances with their medical crews were only the tip of the emergency response iceberg. Flashing lights abounded with six marked police cruisers and two unmarked vehicles crowding the once quiet lane. The cops, some uniformed and some plain clothes, dodged one another. A couple of them had been delegated to roping off what was now openly a crime scene with yellow and black police tape. Granger saw that the ME had also been invited to the party, as the medical examiner's SUV pulled in and a team of CSI's arrived to begin their work.

Flashing his Bureau ID, Colby ducked under the tape, rushing to locate Steve. He did, finding Walton observing as paramedics loaded Rudy Thomas into the back of an ambulance to be transported to a hospital. In the rear of the other, medicated to soothe his anxiety, Jeremiah Russell lay quietly. Clinging tightly to some kind of stuffed animal, blue underneath its layers of filth, the boy was almost catatonic from the crush of activity and unfamiliar people and surroundings. In the days and maybe years to come, Jeremiah would require an enormous amount of patience and understanding. Colby Granger and Steve Walton were determined he would receive all the help he needed.

Once the two patients were removed everyone's attention shifted to the house's interior. The revelation of Colin and Aimee Russell being found hit like a mortar round. Because of the location of the bodies, the ME and CSI's faced the daunting challenge of funneling equipment and personnel thru the narrow slot to where the couple were entombed. Colby didn't envy them the task. Held at the front of the growing crowd, the news media shouted questions that, for the moment, went unanswered. Granger turned his back on the frenzy, joining Steve to answer the investigators inquiries. He'd been correct, there was lot of explaining to do. And this was just the start. The cops were small potatoes. The real test would be laying it all out for Jane and Kerri Walton.

"No sign of Cummings at all?" Steve asked Colby.

"No. None." Granger choked a little at the admission. Cummings had been his self designated responsibility.

"It's only temporary" Steve consoled. "They'll get him. With the manpower they're going to be throwing at this case now, there's no way he'll slip thru again. Besides, we did what we came to do. Jeremiah, remember. That's what's important. Now we need to figure out what to tell my wife and your girlfriend. We better concentrate on getting our stories straight, my friend." Permitted by the police to leave the scene, they headed for Steve's house, trying to settle on an account that would sound the sanest to Jane and her daughter. That staying out of trouble with the distaff Walton's would be the least of their problems tonight neither man had a clue.

* * *

When Steve Walton earned his gold shield, his proud wife presented him with a bottle of Glenfiddich 30 year single malt scotch. Jane, who knew her man was a connoisseur of such things, figured he'd know the right occasion to crack open such a gift. Tonight was that occasion. After hearing the whole story from her husband and Colby, she didn't even hesitate. She knew where he kept it. Reaching into the cabinet, she handed the bottle to him without saying a word.

"The last time I enjoyed a drink this much" Colby said, "was the night I came home from Afghanistan." He sipped the five hundred dollar a bottle amber liquid, relishing its honeyed heat as it slid down his throat.

Kerri said nothing, enjoying her own tumbler of scotch, looking from her father to Colby and back, smiling. She tucked her bare feet under her and rested her head on Colby's shoulder.

"I hate to be the wet blanket" Jane put in, "but that monster is still on the loose. Are we sure this celebration isn't a little premature?"

"Nobody's forgetting about Cummings, honey" Steve answered. "But Jeremiah Russell is safe for the first time in ten years, and his parents can finally rest in peace. That's definitely worth this" He held up his glass. "We'll get Cummings" He corrected himself. "_They'll _get Cummings. It's only a matter of time. We know who he is now. And what he did. I don't care how well he knows those sewers. Sooner or later, he's gotta stick his head up. When he does, he's done." Steve sounded grimly satisfied at the prospect.

"What about Jeremiah?" Kerri asked. "What happens to him now? Poor kid, he's got to be so messed up."

"Right now, he's legally the responsibility of Child Services" Colby told her. "He's going to have therapists with him pretty much round the clock for a while. He's got family here in Seattle, grandparents, aunts, uncles. Colin Russell's family. From what I understand, they've been contacted. The cops are trying to track down any family Aimee Russell might have had. The rest, we just have to wait and see." An involuntary monumental yawn forced its way out, revealing how drained he felt.

"You guys must be wiped out" Jane reflected. "Colby, it doesn't make sense for you to drive all the way back to your hotel this time of night when we have a perfectly good guest room upstairs. It's all prepared. I will not take no for an answer. My daughter is going to ply you with good food, and then you, young man, are going to get some sleep."

"Uh, uh, we…uh, yes ma'am" Colby stammered, looking at Kerri helplessly. He wasn't used to being mothered. His girlfriend shrugged, amused. "I've learned not to argue with that tone of voice, baby" she advised him. "Come on, I'll feed you so you can get some rest." She started for the kitchen. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to put something in your stomach and crash either, dad!" She called over her shoulder.

Colby followed her to the kitchen, grinning at the family dynamics. He emptied his pockets, including keys and id, more out of habit than anything else, onto the dining room table. The quick, delicious meal Kerri threw together was like an exclamation point to the day's events. He eventually made it to the bedroom only to discover his phone still clipped to his belt. Tossing the sturdy, shockproof little device on to the nightstand, he began to undress.

Plotting a visit to Kerri's room in the night like a randy sixteen year old, or she to his, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

In summer the large, old oak in the Walton's backyard spread its leaves over most of the lawn, casting shade in a huge circumference. One of Steve's principal enjoyments in his retirement was the large hammock he'd been presented with as a going away gift from some of his former police co-workers. Much to Jane's annoyance, he'd lost no time erecting the monstrosity directly under the welcoming branches of their lovely tree. At present, the hammock wintered in the garage, waiting for spring. Aided by night, the trunk of the majestic oak now harbored a far less benign presence.

He studied them, the man and the two women. The other violator, the younger one, the one who'd chased him, he did not see. That one must be elsewhere for now. No matter, he'd find that one too. Contempt mingled with his anger the longer he remained. Jeremiah was lost to him! Never to be returned! Taken by the violators! Inferior crawling maggots! They had invaded his home, stolen his peace, disturbed the dead and robbed him of his brother! His brother!!! Avery's mania threatened to strangle him. NO! He would not allow it to. The pain of his loss must be felt by those whom he held responsible. Fist closing around the piece of paper in his pocket, he nodded. Dropped by the gray haired violator during one of their intrusive visits to his home, the scrap had proven invaluable. It held the violator's address. It led Avery to his tormentor's door. Now they would pay. Now they would regret robbing him of his family. It would be their last thought. Their very last thought.

* * *

**The shaggy, foul creature encircled Colby's throat in its bloody claws. Its fetid breath was hot on his face as he struggled to draw air into his starved lungs. He felt his airway shrinking as the brute intensified its pressure. Fighting for his very survival, Colby struck back at the beast which sought to steal his life away but could feel his will ebbing as his opponent's swelled. Spitting defiance, he gathered the last vestiges of his strength and pushed his oppressor back. It massed itself to renew the attack, slavering mouth agape as it stretched forth to seize him once more. This couldn't be! Impossible. He couldn't fight this, this, thing if he couldn't breathe. But he had to, he had to fight! He had to live! He would live! He would fight it until it snatched the last breath from him! He raised his fists as it approached, swinging wildly…I won't let you kill me! I won't die! I won't….won't! Wo….**

He ripped free of the nightmare, scrambling to a sitting position in the bed. Entangled in the sweat soaked sheets and blankets, he felt nauseous and disoriented waking in the unfamiliar room. Racked by a hacking cough, his consciousness clicked in and, in a horrifying instant, he realized the room was filled with black, choking smoke!** FIRE!! **The house was on fire!

Adrenaline hit his system like a runaway locomotive. Leaping out of bed, Granger raced for the door. His hand on the knob, he froze, a childhood memory taking control. _"Remember kids" Rich Bennett, Winchester's fire chief said, wrapping up his presentation, "if you even think there's a fire, always check to see if the door is hot before you open it_!" Colby did that now. The door was cool. He opened it, stepping into the hallway. Smoke stung his eyes, nose and throat. He couldn't see!! He remembered another of Chief Bennett's admonitions. Getting as low to the floor as he could, he went to find Kerri and her parents. He tried to control his breathing as much as possible. Smoke was the more deadly killer in a house fire.

"Kerri?! Kerri?! Steve?! Jane?! He reached Kerri's door. Even with his vision obscured he could tell the room was empty. He swiftly checked the other bedroom, but it also held no occupants. Where were they?! He had to find them! They had to get out! Now!

Finding the barely visible banister, he groped his way down the stairs, desperate to find Kerri, her mom and dad and the fire. "Kerri! Keeerrriiii!!!" He got no reply. Where was she?! Where were they?! Why didn't they answer?! "Kerri!? Steve?! Jane?!" The unseen fire sucking oxygen nearly right out of his mouth, Colby reached the kitchen. Placing a palm to the door, he immediately drew back. The heat was intense! The fire was on the other side! Before he could move away, a blast of superheated air knocked him back as the blaze burst forth from its prison. He crawled for the living room, nearly in tears with worry for Kerri and her folks. Where were they? Were they even still alive?! The fire roared, announcing its intent to kill him. Coughing, choking, sputtering, he fought for every breath, every inch he could gain away from his enemy. He had to get out, but knew he could not leave without Kerri, Jane and Steve! "Kerri!! Kerri!!, Please baby, where are you?! Kerri!" Wait…What…was that? Was the fire screwing with his head or had he heard a voice? No, he did! He heard Kerri! Faint, but definitely her voice!

"COLBY!!! COLBY!! IN HERE! WE'RE IN HERE! HELLLLPPP!!"

Staying low, he followed the sound, encouraging her to keep yelling. He ended up in front of a door Jane Walton had informed him proudly held a huge walk-in pantry. He twisted the knob frantically. Locked! He had seconds to spare, looking over his shoulder to see the fire gaining ground unbelievably fast. Turning back to the door, Colby lowered his shoulder to batter it open. As he positioned his body, Avery Cummings, acting with brutal efficiency, clubbed him from behind. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Don Eppes rubbed tired eyes. One agent down or not, his team still had cases to work. This one, dumped in his lap by the ADIC personally, was gonna be a cast iron pain. Congresswoman Bly's daughter was intimately involved with the team's principal suspect and the image conscious politico kept trying to insert herself into the investigation to protect her kid. Another poor little rich girl involved with a bad boy, no doubt at least partially to get mommy and daddy's goat. The drug dealing boyfriend, who ran one of the nastiest crews on either side of the border had some truly scary international connections. There was also this. He ground his teeth, studying the pile of reports in front of him with loathing. The paperwork part of his job made him want to jump in front of a bus. Yep, Don told himself, trying to stretch the cramp out of his back, this must be why they pay me the big bucks. Not.

Okay, Eppes. Suck it up. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He glanced at the clock. Ten P.M. Screw this, he thought, I'm going home. All this happiness would still be waiting for him in the morning. He stood up and shrugged into his jacket to leave. Punching the button for the elevator, he was surprised when the doors opened to reveal Agent Dale Gorman. Since the day of Gorman and his partner Lennox's hostile interrogation of Colby Granger, Don had avoided the two agents zealously, and made sure his team did the same.

"Eppes" Gorman began, "Glad I caught you. Now I won't have to make the extra trip."

"Agent Gorman" Don returned coolly. "What brings you here so late?" Don wasn't sure he really wanted to know, but Margaret Eppes would probably rise up from her grave and smack him a good one if he didn't at least fake some good manners.

"Actually, I came to give you some news. You're about to get your agent back. We found out how Lucern's killer got into the MDC. We sure his death doesn't have anything to do with Colby Granger or Kerri Walton. Looks like they're both in the clear. Figured you'd want to know as soon as possible. So, now you do. Good night" Without further comment, Gorman turned to go.

"Wait" Don stopped him. "What do you mean, in the clear? What exactly did you find out?!" Eppes was exasperated. Gorman was a real piece of work, dropping his mini bombshell like it was nothing more than a grocery list.

"Eppes, you know I'm still not allowed to discuss the investigation with you. Just be happy your people are off the hot seat, huh? I'm leaving now. Goodbye" Gorman moved back into the elevator as the car started buzzing. Somebody else was calling for it. Eppes didn't need to know how long and hard Gorman had thought before deciding not to delve too deeply into the origins of the phone call that cleared Granger and Walton.

Mr. Personality you ain't, Don thought, jumping on before the doors closed. Aloud he said "fine, guess I'll take what I can get. Does Colby know this yet? Seeing as how you and Agent Lennox put so much effort into making him feel special and all" he finished sarcastically.

"Thought I'd leave that pleasure to you." Gorman replied.

"Yeah, I'll bet you did. Not a problem . I'll call him, let him know tonight" Don promised.

"Whatever, Eppes. Have it your way." Dale Gorman waved a weary hand in Don's direction as the elevator reached the ground floor. He glanced back once to see Don's "told you so" look, then was gone.

Not remembering when he'd enjoyed making a call more, Don extracted his cell phone to give Granger the good news. He was pretty sure Colby wouldn't mind the late hour, given the time difference between L.A. and Seattle, once he heard what Don had to say.

Knocked to the floor of the guest bedroom of Steve and Jane Walton's now fully engulfed home, Colby's phone began to ring, going to voice mail long before it melted, a casualty of the flames.

* * *

Roger Kendall fingered the elongated velvet box he carried in the breast pocket of his Italian silk suit. The Melina Ninovieri diamond and sapphire bracelet he carried should go a long way towards soothing Miriam's ruffled feathers. His mistress (an extremely well kept secret) had been discontented with him of late, denying him, among other things access to her voluptuous self. He was no longer enough for her. Infected by the celebrity atmosphere of southern California, she'd decided she wanted to be famous, maybe become an actress. She wanted her name to be "known." He needed to change that, and fast. He could not allow anyone to find out about her. Besides, Miriam's nitro fueled sexuality did things to him. Things his wife hadn't been able to do for him since the very early days of their marriage. Plus, she listened to him, allowed him to unload his grievances, real and imaged, to discuss the pressures of his job. He told Miriam what he would tell no one else, and sometimes, what he should not have discussed with anyone, even her. Their pillow talk crossed the line far too often. But Roger couldn't help himself. Having sampled Miriam Jaelle's exotic charms once, he'd been hooked. She was more addictive than meth. He had to have her. Whatever consequences followed, and those were innumerable. Miriam was stunningly beautiful but she had Cristal tastes. High maintenance with a vengeance . Roger would've said it was God's way of punishing him for his dalliance with the alluring Romani woman, if he believed in that sort of thing, which he didn't.

Roger put no stock in myths of good and evil. He believed in himself, that he made it happen, and in his ability to manipulate others into giving him what he wanted or thought he deserved. He'd been mostly successful, both in his professional and personal lives. His recent blunder concerning Jackson Lucern was a notable exception that Roger was trying hard to put behind him. Finding out Kerri Walton was the illegitimate daughter of a notorious traitor so soon after the Lucern disaster had cost him a few sleepless nights. He had to think of a way to unload Walton before her unfortunate parentage became an embarrassment to him and his unbounded political ambition. He couldn't let some nothing little assistant ruin all the years of hard work that went into putting him where he was now. Marrying well, all the wheeling and dealing, all the lunches, dinners and hours spent in the company of people he privately couldn't stomach. No way would that all be for naught. He caressed the box again, the way he hoped to be stroking Miriam's exceptional curves shortly. She maintained she was angered by his "inattention," his longer than usual absences from her. She'd even changed the locks of the luxury apartment he'd purchased for her. It was paid for with money pilfered from the public coffers, skimmed from funds provided to the Federal Prosecutor's office. The idea that he could afford to keep a woman like Miriam on a government salary was laughable. He could absolutely not risk his wife discovering his affair, let alone the amount of money he showered on his lover. He chuckled, thinking of the gullible voters subsidizing his trysts. Lock him out, would she? This little bauble should get him back in the door. He felt himself swell at the thought. Reaching her floor, he inhaled deeply. With a feral smile, he knocked. She opened the door slightly, stout security chain in place.

"Yes, Roger?" Just the sound of her husky tones had him nearly ready to burst.

"Miriam, my love, I have a gift for you. Something to…soothe over our quarrel? I'd love to give it to you in bed. May I come in?" He heard himself speak. Was it imagination, or had his voice carried, ever so slightly, a pleading tone? No, of course not. Never.

She closed the door, and he crowed internally as he heard the sound of the chain being released. Crossing the threshold, his foot sank into the plush rug covering the marble floor. She stood just inside, the filmy chiffon she wore direly inadequate at disguising her amazing body. Roger couldn't contain it any longer. He reached for her with a lusty groan, excited at the prospect of bathing his face in her auburn locks as he exploded inside her, and was blinded by the flash of a digital camera. When the spots in front of his eyes cleared, he was shocked to realize he and Miriam were not alone. There was a third person in the apartment. A man. Younger than he, cheaply dressed, looking lean and hungry.

"Mr. Kendall, Joe Duncan, . Pleased to meet you in person. You're a hard man to get an interview with, sir. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions regarding your relationship with Ms. Jaelle." Seeming to notice the jewelry in Roger's hand for the first time, the reporter added, "say, that's a really nice bracelet. Must have set you back quite a chunk. Mrs. Kendall gonna get one too? Mr. Kendall? Sir?"

Roger backed away until the door cut off his retreat, paralyzed as the journalist snapped another photo.

* * *

Avery stared at the expanding flames, wishing he could be closer to the glorious heat of the blaze. Finding the second, younger violator in the house was a great boon, a joyous blessing. He looked down at the man's identification and keys, purloined from the table prior to setting the fire. **Special Agent Colby Granger, FBI-Los Angeles Field Office. **Both items were fitting proof of his triumph over his enemies. Watching the fire consume the house, listening to the sound of approaching sirens he knew would not arrive in time, he nodded. The deaths of the violators would be justice for his torn family.

* * *

Colby swam up thru the fog of pain and smoke, battling to take breaths, to understand why it hurt so much even to raise his head. Why was he on the floor? It was so hot! He couldn't breathe! He longed to rest his head on the hard surface and let it all pass, but could not. Someone was shouting. The words were hard to make out. What…what was the voice yelling? Why was someone screaming at him? What…what…? He tried to concentrate on the words.

"Colby! Colby, wake up, baby please wake up!!" a woman's sobbing voice, racked with coughing, yelled over and over, trying urgently to rouse him.

"Colby! Please!! You have to wake up!!"


	15. Chapter 15

**No fancy disclaimer's here either. Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. The original characters remain mine forever! Bwahaha! Final chapter. Yea!**

An Earlier Heaven

Chapter 15

* * *

"Auuugghh!" Open your eyes! Get up! Get up! Get moving or die, Granger! If you die, Kerri dies, Jane and Steve die too! Come on, Colby, open your eyes and get off this floor! **NOW!!!** Colby's internal drive whipped him to consciousness.

The overwhelming desire to preserve his own life, and to see Kerri and those she loved safe forced Colby, coughing and fighting for air, first to his hands and knees and then to his feet. Green eyes burning, his lungs ready to burst, he staggered to Kerri, tied so tightly to a chair that her hands were turning purplish red. The cord that bound her, formerly the tie-back for the drapes, was knotted multiple times. Too many, Colby saw, to untie quickly.

Hearing an unearthly roar, he looked over his shoulder. The fire was almost to them, battering at the door to the pantry, behaving almost as a living creature. There would be no escape in that direction. The side window, protected by a security screen was their only chance and they had maybe a couple of minutes, if not less.

A foot away, Steve and Jane Walton were tied together, both unconscious. Steve looked injured, blood covering his face. Jane looked pale, eyes narrowed to slits, rolled back in her head. Had she been drugged? No, Colby could see a small clump of bloody scalp near her face.

He had to get Kerri free, and together, they had to get her incapacitated parents out of the flaming death trap their home had become.

With no time to deal with the complicated knots, he decided to hack thru them and looked around for something he could use as a knife. The pantry was loaded with items, some of them in canning jars. No good. But he saw something else he could use. An old fashioned counter clamp can opener. The edges it produced might be jagged, but they should be sharp enough to cut thru the thin ribbon of the tie-backs. With the flames licking their way by ever decreasing inches into the space, Granger picked the largest can he could find and, running to the opener, rotated it until lid and can separated.

Weeping and gasping for breath, Kerri battled to keep from being overcome by smoke and heat as Colby reached her.

"Baby, I got get thru this stuff fast. I'm gonna try not to cut you, but…" he warned.

"I know, I know, just do what you have to honey!" she reassured him. The heat and smoke were becoming intolerable. The four of them had seconds before they would be burned alive.

Sawing with the sharp edges of his makeshift cutting tool, he managed to free Kerri, her numbed wrists and hands now sporting bloody nicks and cuts, she crawled quickly to her mother while Colby undid Steve bonds, wrapping the injured man's arm around his neck.

"Colby, how are we going to get out of here?!" Kerri asked, supporting her mother, cast frantic glances back at the approaching fire.

"There's only one way!" He shouted back, in between coughing bouts. But how to get past the security screen? The can opener! Unclamping the device from its moorings, he wrenched it off, handle and all. Hooking the heavy steel bar inside the screen's decorative scrollwork around the area of the lock, Granger applied every ounce of pressure he could muster, finally hearing a metallic POP! The now useless screen sprang open.

Kerri yanked open the window, pushing her semi-conscious mother thru the opening and onto the lawn. Colby followed, muscling Steve's unresponsive weight ahead of him. The younger couple dragged Jane and Steve away from the burning structure. As they emerged, horrified neighbors rushed to assist, bringing warm blankets and flagging down the arriving firefighters and paramedics.

A chaotic mixture of emergency personnel, curious onlookers and concerned neighborhood residents took over the night. Between treating the victims, putting out the fire before it could spread to any other structures and holding back the crowd, the fire and police departments had a lot to keep them busy. Colby, Kerri and her parents were all rushed to the nearest emergency room. Steve and Jane, in addition to being treated for smoke inhalation were also found to be concussed from blows to the head and Jane had ugly, unexplained bruising to her chest and throat. Later, Colby figured those out, too. Avery Cummings had most likely used a knee to her chest and a hand around her throat to contain her as he subdued Steve. Everybody had chloroform in their system but Colby. He'd just gotten whacked on the head. Hard. Again. He rubbed the sore spot. His head and hard surfaces _really _had to stop meeting like this. He dreaded explaining all of this to his teammates back in L.A., especially David. Maybe he should just keep it to himself. Yeah, Yeah, that seemed like a good idea, making more sense the longer he thought about it. He sighed. Who was he kidding? It was all bound to come out. Granger figured he might as well prepare himself for the sarcastic comments about being a trouble magnet. He could hear David now. "Man, the hardness of your skull is a force of nature. They should chisel a sculpture of the team on it, like Mt. Rushmore. Don could be in the middle, then me, you, Liz and Nikki on either side." He sighed again and went to check on Kerri, hovering anxiously over her sleeping mom and dad. They all spent an uncomfortable night in the ER, with Colby dreaming about being chased by his co-workers, all with sculpting hammers and chisels in their hands.

The next morning, several surprise visitors put in an appearance. Seattle detectives showed to inform Colby and the Walton's that Cummings was still at large. That news prompted Steve to threaten to discharge himself AMA until his weakened spouse and worried daughter put their combined feminine foot down.

A couple of agents from the Bureau's Seattle office also dropped in. Setting the fire and trapping Colby inside constituted attempted murder of a federal agent, so they informed him.

"Oh, _now_ you're interested all of a sudden? I had to nearly get myself whacked by this psycho before you guys see there's a case here? Uh huh, top of the line operation you run up here in Seattle, I can see that!" Granger radiated sarcasm and irritation. Clowns.

Steve Walton, listening to the exchange, cleared his throat loudly. The look he gave Colby said very clearly, "now's not the time, let it go."

Getting tenuous control, Granger subsided. He started again. "Okay, you're here now. What's next?"

"Well" one of the agents replied, Harper, his name was, Matt Harper, "we think it might not be a bad idea if you went back to Los Angeles, Ms. Walton too. And uh, maybe your folks could come visit you there for a while?" this last comment he addressed to Kerri.

"L.A.? With that poster boy for psychotropic drugs Avery Cummings still roaming the streets? Are you bananas too, or just completely incompetent!?" Colby's fragile patience dissolved.

"Colby!" Steve interrupted again, this time coughing painfully, his lungs still sore and irritated. "Let's listen to what the agents have to say first, huh?"

Granger threw his hands in the air. "Fine, spit it out!"

"As Agent Granger so eloquently pointed out" Harper continued, "Cummings is still free. Until he's not, sir, your family and Agent Granger here, are going to be in a fair amount of danger. The Russell kid too. The Russell boy is in a pretty well guarded psych facility. It's highly improbable that Avery Cummings could even get close to him.

You four on the other hand… You're open targets. Unless you're willing to agree to protective custody until we nab this guy?" Harper got the expected reaction. "I didn't think so. So, we strongly suggest that you might want to vacate Seattle for a while. Put some distance between yourselves and him. It's only until he's caught. He won't know where you are and it'll help us 'cause we won't have to worry about protecting you at the same time."

"What about our home?" Jane put in, having trouble speaking, her depleted condition evident. "Our house was just destroyed. We can't just walk away from that like it didn't happen. There's the insurance company, the fire department, so much to deal with." She started to cry softly, thinking of her home. Kerri went to her, wrapping her arms around her mother.

"We can handle the fire guys. The arson's part of an ongoing federal investigation now" Harper's partner, Agent Ben Grayson put in. Realizing he sounded a little too matter of fact, he softened the remainder of his statement. "I'm sorry about your house, Mrs. Walton. But um, our legal folks can talk to the insurance company too. See what we can do. Work with them about settlement, and that sort of thing. Right now, what's important is getting Cummings. It'll be easier to do that if we don't have to worry about keeping you all safe at the same time. Like Matt said, it's a temporary solution and it keeps the suspect in the dark as to where to find you."

Steve cleared his throat again, clearly an uncomfortable exercise. "Could we ask you to wait outside?" He took Jane's hand. "We need to discuss this." Once the Seattle agents were absent, the options were thoroughly kicked around. In the end it was decided that L.A. might not be such a bad idea. Colby and Kerri needed to get back to their lives, and Steve and Jane needed space to pull their own newly shattered one together. Hopefully the combined manpower of the Seattle cops and the FBI could finally put paid to the homicidal Avery Cummings.

* * *

At his desk a week following, Colby Granger sipped a cup of sufficiently powerful coffee, brewed by his own hand. It felt really good to be back to work. Even the small forest of bureaucracy on his desk couldn't wreck his good mood. He'd come clean about the goings on in Seattle and the good natured ribbing he'd received helped serve as a nice welcome home. His improving relationship with Bentancourt did too.

Contacting Don the morning after the fire, he got the pleasant surprise of hearing he and Kerri were no longer suspects in Jackson Lucern's murder. The good news helped dispel some of the gloom at the sight of the Walton's fire gutted, smoked damaged ruin of a home. Four days later, back in L.A., after getting Kerri's parents settled into the spare room in her apartment (and helping with some clothes shopping), both he and Kerri were, at last, back to doing their respective jobs.

The biggest surprise of all waited for Kerri. Roger Kendall, Mr. "Law and order, the good of the people is paramount and the conduct of this office must be above reproach" his own self, had been hiding a Moby Dick sized secret in his closet, and the whale finally turned and swallowed him. A mistress, stealing from funds provided for his office to fund his love nest and keep his hot lover from cooling off. The whole shooting match hit the internet and airwaves like King Kong atop the Empire State Building. Roger, presently secluding himself at a hotel (Mrs. Roger gave him the boot by way of tossing his expensive suits onto the front lawn), didn't have time to worry over Kerri anymore. Fired and charged with multiple counts of misuse of government funds, he'd been served with divorce papers the same day. Miriam Jaelle got her wish. Fame and fortune (she had several television producers panting, literally, in the case of the male ones, after her already) were hers. Happy day.

The new temporary boss at the Federal Prosecutor's office was a woman. Sandra Dillon, a tough, knowledgeable lady, hardly reacted to the news of Kerri's connection with Lancer. She laid it out for Kerri .

"I don't hold anybody's family against them. I have a couple of people in my family tree I wish I could shake out too. You were hired to prosecute federal crimes, Kerri. You take care of that. Let me worry about anybody who wants to make an issue out of Lancer. Now, you have a full caseload waiting on you. I suggest you get to work on it." And that was that.

* * *

"Colby" Kerri whispered, head tucked into her favorite spot under his chin, one leg thrown over him as they lay in bed.

"Hmm?" he answered sleepily, very comfortably settled in amongst the sheets, blankets, and pillows. Having a warm, beautiful, naked female in his arms made it all good.

"I've been thinking about it a lot." She sounded tentative.

"Thinking about what baby?" She better talk fast. He was almost asleep.

"I don't want it hanging over me anymore. I'm tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for somebody else to find out about, you know, about Lancer. So, I thought maybe we could just tell Robin, your friends on your team. That means everybody that matters will already know. If anybody else finds out, so be it."

He woke up a little more, and opened his eyes, looking into hers. "If that's what you want, that's what we'll do." He held her as they fell into slumber. She could feel his smile as she drifted off. Up yours, Mason Lancer.

* * *

"Glad Charlie let us use his place for this" Colby said to Kerri as he helped her put the finishing touches on their joint dinner party. Colby's chili, and Kerri's steak fajitas and Baja shrimp and chicken tacos were the menu. Fresh fruit and a generous supply of beer and wine made everything come together.

All Don's team had been invited, and were all there, minus Nikki, who had a few things to wrap up at work and would be showing up later. Alan, Charlie, Amita, and Kerri's folks were there. Robin Brooks too. She and Liz actually got on fairly well with one another. It made for a full house. Too many people for Kerri's small two bedroom and absolutely too much for Colby's compact digs. Luckily, Charlie Eppes was a good friend. Granger had given Rudy Thomas a call in Seattle, not really expecting him to make such a long trip. So he was rather surprised when Charlie answered the door, ushering in the cane dependent Seattle detective for introductions all around. David Sinclair had come bearing a mysterious gift wrapped package. He refused divulge its contents, saying only that it was a gift for Colby that would be presented after dinner. Colby and Kerri ferried the food out to Charlie's mission style dining room.

"…Seems humans weren't the only type of victims Cummings preyed on" Thomas was saying. "GPR of the Russell place turned up a small pet cemetery's worth of animal bones. Mostly dogs and cats. Homicide thinks they can tie him to at least three or four other unsolved murders in the city too. They're still looking, but this character's had years to perfect his routine. I've never seen anybody disappear so completely, and I been doing this job a long time."

"Dinnertime, everybody. Enough shop talk for now." Kerri announced, depositing platters of food in front of her guests. Every bit as delicious as it looked, the hungry diners dived in. Colby's chili, a hidden treasure till now, received a fair share of complements. Between it and the fajitas and tacos, it was a satiated group gathered around the living room after the meal.

"Ok, Colby" David prodded, "you said you wanted everybody to come because you and Kerri had something to you wanted to tell us?"

'Yes" Robin put in. "I don't see a ring, so…?"

Colby looked to Kerri. This was her choice, so he'd let her tell it in her own way at her own speed.

"Yeah, that's not what we…what I wanted to tell you." She glanced at her mom and pop, who nodded supportively. She'd discussed this with Steve and Jane beforehand. They already knew why they were here.

"Alright, here goes. I don't know if this is ever going to be public, but it could be someday, and if that happens, you need to know in advance. So…" She tried to say but nerves tripped her up at the last second. She tried again.

"Here it is. I love my father. He's the best dad anyone could ever have and I have been proud of him my whole life." Steve grinned. She was his baby girl and anybody who hurt her would have him to answer to. "But the fact is, he and my mother met when I was one and married when I was two. My…biological father was…he… was…" A shaky breath. "His name was Mason Lancer."

* * *

To say the room was stunned into silence did not begin to describe it. A pin hitting the floor at that particular moment would've sounded like a steel I-beam. Everybody but Colby, Jane and Steve found they were staring either at the floor, walls or out a window. Anywhere but at Kerri. The only one not sure of the name's significance was Rudy Thomas, who looked confused.

The young D.A. felt a knot form in her stomach. "They can't even look at me" she thought. She felt Colby come up behind her and fold her in his arms.

Steve Walton reddened, beginning to anger at the reaction and ready to come to his daughter's defense. His girl felt at home among these people, but if this is how they were going to take the news then they could just….

"I don't know how many people know this" David Sinclair said, looking embarrassed, "but I used to listen to my sister's phone calls when she was talking to her boyfriends, and uh, once I even stowed away on one of her dates. Anybody have any idea how disgusting it is to listen to your own sister making out? Uuhgh!"

Liz was next. "I always thought I'd take this secret to my grave…but…when I was a kid, and my mother served something I didn't like for dinner, like liver or peas, I'd pretend to eat it, then hide the food in my napkin and feed it to the dog when I got the chance. When I couldn't get the dog to do the dirty work, I'd stick it under one of my brother's beds." She looked down, scuffing her shoes on the rug.

Colby understood what they were doing. He had the best friends in the world. Anybody who said different would have a fight on their hands. He decided to get in on the act with an admission of his own.

"I superglued my uncle into his sleeping bag during a camping trip after he threw my skateboard into the lake."

"Superglue?" Don said. "Colby, how does somebody even think of that?"

"It was my favorite skateboard" Colby said defiantly.

"I think the point is, Kerri" Robin addressed her friend, "we don't care about Lancer. As far as I can tell, you got a great set of parents here. Lancer's dead and buried. Let him stay that way. You're not responsible for him." She gave Kerri a hug.

It was going to be okay, Kerri realized. She'd uttered the dreaded words, made the big announcement, and survived. She felt hot tears coming but accompanied by a silly relieved grin. She started sniffling.

"Great" Colby said, teasing. "Now look what you guys did. Here I am with a weepy female on my hands and nothing for her to blow her nose on but my shirt!"

"Shut up , Granger!" Liz batted him on the shoulder while handing Kerri a tissue which the latter used to blow her nose, noisily.

"Wow!" Colby said, grinning. "I'll bet a few ships at sea heard that one!"

A loud communal groan went up around the room.

"Look" David said, "let me rescue my partner before he steps in anything else!" He produced the gift he'd brought with him, presenting it to Colby with flourish.

Cautiously, suspecting the amused look in Sinclair's eye, he tore off the childish wrapping paper, opening the rather large, square box. Wading thru a couple of layers of tissue paper, he revealed…a football helmet? Huh?

He pulled the helmet out. "Okay, I'll bite. Why, and I know I'm gonna be sorry I asked, but, why a football helmet?"

"Are you kidding?" David responded, huge "gotcha back" grin decorating his face. "As much as you get cracked across that humongo melon of yours?"

It was a good ten minutes before the laughter and mocking died down. Everybody had their own "do you remember when Colby got hurt doing this" story to tell.

After enduring the lighthearted heckling for a time, Colby grabbed the helmet, box and all and stood. "I'm going to go put my 'gift' in the truck" he told Kerri. I'll be right back, ok?"

'"Sure, baby" She watched him leave, relaxed and happy once more.

Shaking his head at his buddy's craziness, Colby walked to the truck, fishing out keys. He dropped the box on the seat, locked his vehicle and started back inside.

Kerri, coming to get something she'd intended to give to Robin, was framed in the doorway. She was puzzled, seeing movement behind Colby, then realized what it was she was looking at. Or rather, who.

"COLBYYYYY!!!!" Kerri screamed.

"GRANGER!!!" The arriving Nikki Bentacourt yelled at the same time. In one smooth move, she drew her weapon, aimed and fired.

Reactions honed by years of being shot at, Colby instinctively hit the ground.

Nikki's shots hit their mark. Revealed by Colby's maneuver, was the insane, fury filled face of a would-be assailant. Raised eleven inch bowie knife in his clenched fist, the man fell to the asphalt of the driveway.

The sound of gunshots brought Don and the rest running, the agents with weapons at the ready.

Kerri ran to Colby. "Are you alright?! Colby?!"

Granger picked himself up, staring in shocked disbelief from his hopefully dead near killer to Nikki to Kerri.

"I…I'm okay, baby! I'm okay, I'm not hurt" he reassured her. I'm not hurt." He leaned against the truck, at a loss for further words.

Don arrived first. "Colby! Nikki! Kerri! Everybody alright?!" Don reached the body in his brother's driveway.

"Colby, what's going on here? Who is this?" he indicated the recipient of Nikki's fire.

"Huh. Don Eppes," he told his boss "meet the late…wait a sec " he bent down check for a pulse and found none. Yep dead, definitely, "meet the late, really late, thanks very much to Nikki, Avery Cummings."

"What! How did he…how'd he find you!? How did he know to come to L.A.?" Don was baffled.

The answer came when LAPD arrived and the coroner that accompanied them gave permission to roll the body. Going thru Cummings's pockets, David Sinclair came across Colby's stolen Bureau ID, believed to have been lost in the fire. How long Avery Cummings had been in Los Angeles and stalking Colby, they would never know.

Wrapping her arms around Granger's waist from behind, Kerri still shook slightly from Colby's near miss.

"I don't care how it sounds. I'm glad he's dead. He'll never be able to hurt anyone else" She told Colby as the body was finally bagged and taken away.

"Yeah, me too babe. It's over. Why don't you go back inside? Kinda chilly out here? I'll be there in a few minutes." He watched her go, then turned to watch the coroners vehicle pull away.

"I know Nikki finished him" he said to David Sinclair. "I mean he's dead, done, kaput. The fork's in him good and deep."

"True, so…" David could tell his partner had more to say.

"So, why do I want go over to Charlie's tree, trim up a nice, stout wooden stake, and run after that morgue wagon?" Colby asked, only half kidding.

David laughed shortly. He put a hand on Granger's shoulder. "Come on, Van Helsing. Let's get back inside."

They went, Colby casting one last look down the street after the departing coroner. Shaking his head, he followed Sinclair back into the warm glow of Charlie Eppse's home, closing the door behind him.

THE END


End file.
